Stand By Me a Little Longer
by StandingByChambers
Summary: COMPLETE! When the gang finds out that the infamous Ray Brower was really murdered by none other than the Cobra gang, they'll have to find a way to tell someone. But with Ace and Eyeball breathing down their neck every waking moment, how? If the Cobras ever find out that they know, they're dead. They have to get away. Rated T for typical SBM boy cursing, and violence content.
1. Chapter 1

Gordie Lachance awoke to the sound of everlasting silence piercing his ears. His chestnut brown hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were teary and wide. Something had awoken him from a terrible dream. A dream about his brother, and many other things, most particularly the things that took place in the event of the last few days. What else would it be? Just a week and a half ago, him and his friends had ventured out to find the dead body of Ray Brower. _A dead body. _And if that wasn't enough to give him nightmares, both his brother's car and his brother himself had been totaled in a gory automobile accident a few months back.

Although grateful for being wrenched from his horrible nightmare, something had awoken him. Gordie looked around his boxy room. Nothing was there, nobody. He looked at the window. The full moon hanging in the summer sky pulsed blue-silver light through the glass, and a soft breeze flowed through the mosquito net.

_Ping!_

It happened so fast, Gordie had to blink a few times before he let a shiver run down his spine. What was that? Something had just ricocheted off of his window. But what?

_Ping! _

There it was again. With numb toes and sweat curling across his skin, Gordie let his legs swing out of bed. He pushed the thin covers out of his way, and slowly, _slowly, _crept across the bare floor towards the window.

His breath was shaky. Closer, closer he walked. His mind screamed to run, but his feet said he had to keep going. What was out there? He could only guess.

_Ping!_

Gordie recoiled just a little bit before he shook his head.

_It's nothing! _His mind raged, disappointed in himself, _Stop being such a pussy!_

Gordie took a few more lurching steps forwards, but collided with his typewriter.

"Sorry," Gordie mumbled, "Sorry, I mean-urgh." Being that his mind was still groggy from sleep, apologizing to typewriters was excusable.

With one final push, Gordie wrenched himself from his spot, rooted to the floor, and silently sprinted towards the source of the noise. Using the window-sill to break him as he rammed himself towards the window, Gordie tentatively peered through the mosquito netting, bracing himself for the worst.

A figure stood on the dirt ground outside of the Lachance's place. He was nervously shifting from foot to foot, looking restlessly up at Gordie's open window. He wore a dirty, light blue tee-shirt, ripped jeans and black Converse, so covered in dirt and dust that they looked almost dark grey. The boy was of close-cut dirty-blonde hair, a straight jaw and dark blue eyes, shadows playing across his features as he stood in the dark.

"Chris?" Gordie's voice croaked. The tense figure jumped, and looked up at Gordie's dark silhouette peeking through the screen.

"Gordie!" Chris Chambers hissed, "Get down here!"

Gordie blinked.

"What the hell for?" He called, then opened the screen and leaned full out the window. Chris stared up at him with eyes like a scared puppy. "It's the middle of the night!"

"Just get down here, God damn it!" Chris almost yelled, then looked embarrassed.

Taken aback by the sternness in his friend's voice, Gordie stumbled backwards into his room. He quickly pulled on a shirt, his old, patched jeans and shoes and tiptoed down the stairs. Gordie didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. He didn't even know what this was about, but all he really knew was that if he was found hanging around Castle Rock late at night with a Chamber's kid, he'd be dead meat.

Gordie scurried towards the front door, and grabbed his jean jacket and Yankees cap that his brother had given him before slinking out the door and into the night.

Chris was standing on the curb when Gordie turned around after locking the door with his spare keys.

"Shit, man, this better be good," Gordie whispered to him through gritted teeth as Chris lead him down the street, "I swear to God, if we get in trouble-"

"We're not going to get in trouble," Chris snapped. Gordie had never seen Chris this nervous before, which hinted to him that it was something bad. Something really bad.

"Shit, man," Gordie mumbled, but a horrible thought occurred to him. He stopped short, and placed his hands on Chris's shoulders.

"Chris, is this about your dad? Because if it's about your dad-"

"It's not my dad," Chris assured him. Chris's daydream eyes were wide and scared, so much that it scared _Gordie. _Nonetheless, Gordie did a quick scan across his friend for any fresh signs of blood or hurt.

"W-what is it then?" Gordie asked, dead serious.

"Just stick with it. I'll tell you when we get the others." Chris started to walk again, but it took Gordie a few seconds to register.

"The others?" He asked, jogging to catch up.

"Yeah." Chris said, keeping his eyes on the dark horizon.

"Is it about Brower, then?" Gordie asked quietly. When Chris didn't respond, Gordie's mind began to race.

"Damn it, Chris, is it about Brower or what?" He asked quickly, "Because I thought we were done and over with that already!"

"It's never really over, is it?" Chris mumbled, and set his jaw.

Gordie stumbled in the rhythm of his steps.

"Don't tell me it's about the Cobras, man. Cause I can't deal with them anymore-"

"We're going to have to deal with them for the rest of our lives, Gordie!" Chris snapped, stopping dead in his tracks. Then, calmer; "Looks like now's where it really get's interesting."

Chris continued to walk, and so did Gordie.

"Shit, man."

A few minutes later, Gordie and Chris found themselves standing outside a dark, creepy-looking house at the top of a small hill. This here was Teddy Duchamp's house. Only two lights were on in the drafty old abode of the craziest guy the boys hung out with, but the place seemed to be buzzing. Even in the middle of the night, Chris and Gordie could hear muffled yelling of what appeared to be two people. One of the voices was easily recognizable as the slightly nasal voice of Teddy.

Gordie and Chris exchanged a worried glance before setting out towards the house, nervously forcing themselves to trek up the hill of dead grass that lead to the trash-laden lot.

They were screams. The boys could recognize them as they got closer. Screaming and yelling, one of an older man, and one of their friend.

"Stop it!" Teddy's voice cut through the night with pure desperation.

Gordie and Chris's eyes widened, watching the place before their brains simultaneously made the decision to run to the house.

They stopped when they neared the lit window, creeping towards it on all fours until their noses could just peek above the windowsill.

Nothing happened at first. It was simply Teddy standing defiantly, nose-to-nose with his father. Both guys were bespectacled, Teddy of square black frames, his father of crooked half-moon glasses. Teddy wore a ripped-up white shirt and jeans, his arms placed at a way that his chest flexed out, his sweat-slashed face glowering on his father as if he banished him to hell. His dark green eyes were narrowed and filled, his floppy mop of blonde hair hanging low over them. Tears streamed down his cheek, which the boys could see was red and slightly black-and-blue bruised. His lip was puffy and bloody, and when he spoke in shaking words, his teeth were covered in the iron-y red stuff.

"Leave me alone, goddamn it!" Teddy managed, spitting blood across his shirt.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy!" His father yelled back, obviously drunk. With a beefy hand, Mr. Duchamp grabbed Teddy by his bad ear, the ear that he had put to a stove a few summers back, and slammed his head down onto the kitchen table. Teddy let out a screaming grunt of pain, trying to stifle his tears.

"Man up! You're nothing."

There he was pinned, and with one raise of his hand, Mr. Duchamp slapped his on square across the face. Hard. Twice in a row.

It took only those two times for Chris's face to become mad with fury.

"That son of a bitch!" Chris yelled, beginning to leap up from the ground, but Gordie grabbed his arm with force.

"No way, man," Gordie hissed, yanking his friend back down, "Whatever goes on in Teddy's house is Teddy's business,"

"Not unless it leaves a mark on his face for all the world to see, it doesn't!" Chris yelled.

"Shut up, man!" Gordie leaned forward, attempting to keep his voice down. Teddy's dad was drunk, which meant that his hiding wasn't limited to just his son.

"Look, man, this shit goes on at my place, too. With me. You see these scars?" Chris pointed up and down his bruised arm, "That comes from years of struggle with stuff like this. And I can stand for it with my dad, because there's nothing I can do about it, but I'm not going to stand for it while I watch it going on, Gordie!"

"Chris, if Ted's dad even _sees _us here, he'll hide us to death. Wadd'you think he'll do if you barge into his house and try to punch him? He'll pull a gun, man!"

The two glanced back into the house, just in time to see Teddy attempt to send a punch flying at his father's chest, but Mr. Duchamp caught his fist in his, the older man's hand clamping around Teddy's. His hand was so much bigger compared to his son's. Compared to Mr. Duchamp, Teddy was frail and useless.

Teddy's dad sent Teddy's fist flying back to where it belonged, which was balled, but controlled, at his side, before Teddy indignantly whipped his sweat-drenched hair from his teary eyes and stormed out of the kitchen. Mr. Duchamp simply watched his son go with dark, judging eyes. With that, he sat back down at the table, grabbing a half-empty beer can, chugged it, and tossed it into the pile of discarded tins.

"I hate him. I hate him so much, I just want to….Argh! He should die in hell with the-""Chris," Gordie interrupted his friend's rant as then walked around the house towards Teddy's first-floor bedroom. "He's not even your dad. How would it be if _your _father were being damned to hell?"

"If I had him for a father, then I'd want him damned to hell as well! Well, I _have_ him as a father, but that's besides the point…"

Gordie couldn't help but wonder. His father had never hurt him the way his friends' parents hurt them. Sure, his father had put him down, ignored him, criticized his friends, but had not once drawn blood from his skin. Not once made him cry out for mercy, or attempt to hurt him in any way.

It was crazy to see Chris getting so mad over this. Gordie was sure that things would be different in terms of this experience if his father were violent towards him. It made Gordie mad-furious!-that Mr. Duchamp could do this to his _own son. _But it seemed to be something different for Chris. He knew how it felt, and he felt like it was okay for him to have to deal with it, but he _knew _if wasn't for others. That was simply how Chris was. He wouldn't stand for others' misery.

As the two approached Teddy's open window, they could already hear his muffled cries. Softly, they crept towards the noise and peered through the glass.

Teddy laid face down on his tiny cot, his face buried in a pile of threadbare cloth and blankets. He let the blood fall from his face, and the tears from his eyes. He looked so different without his glasses, which he had removed, so strange with his face all bruised up.

Chris tapped lightly on the window, making Teddy jump. His dark, drooped eyes looked up at them, and he half smiled at them when he met the two boy's faces.

"What in God's name are you guys doing here?" Teddy asked, laughing slightly through his puffed-up lips.

"Could we come in?" Chris asked with sympathy in his words, soft comfort on his tongue.

"Sure." Teddy said this more as a question than an answer, really, and got up, holding a damp towel to his face to stop the blood. With his available hand, he opened the mosquito net and let them in.

Gordie and Chris sat down on ether side of their friend as he dabbed tenderly at his wounds, letting his sniffling tears turn into full-blown crying. He buried his face in his hands, wiping his bloody nose on his arm.

Chris and Gordie put their arms around Teddy, trying their best to comfort him.

"Hey." Chris said. As usual, Gordie let him do most of the talking. His velvety voice always had a way to get into their heads. "You want to talk about it?"

Teddy shook his head lightly, and, with more force, said, "It's stupid! He's such an asshole! He just…gets drunk, and next thing I know he's keeping me up all night with his shit, and I'm completely sick of it!"

"It's okay…" Chris said in a voice that could heal wounds and patch broken hearts. "It's okay, man…It'll be okay…"

"No it won't!" Teddy wrenched himself away from their grips, "It won't! Because no matter what I do, I'll always have to come home to this!" Teddy jumped up from the bed and faced his friends, his face red from fury. He was yelling now, "I'm always going to have to come home to his crap every day! I'm always going to be that kid; Teddy Duchamp! The boy with a _loony, hiding, son of a bitch father!_"

"Theodore!" There was a rapping on the door, so loud it made the boys jump. "Theodore, who's in there!? Who are you talking to!?"

"Shit…" Gordie muttered. The door handle rattled, but their door was locked, thank God.

"Come on!" Chris said, bounding towards the window and motioning for them to go out through it.

Teddy hesitated before ducking through it. Gordie next, and lastly Chris, but not before yelling a couple last words.

"Try and get your fat ass out here and stop us, you low-lying son of a bitch!" He yelled, a defiant, hard look shadowing across his face before he ducked under as well.

"Let's get out of here!" Chris said, and the three ran down the hill for dear life.

"You guys are completely insane." Vern Tessio as the four walked away from Vern's house.

"Obviously," Gordy joked as they walked together down the deserted streets of Castle Rock at midnight.

"What did you guys wake me up for, anyhow?" Vern asked, folding and unfolding his hands around themselves out of habit. His eyes darted around the empty streets, "I really don't know about this…Why am I here?"

Vern was the stoutest of the group, with short, stubby brown hair that came to a slight widow's-peak at his forehead, blue eyes, pink, chubby cheeks and a funny smile. The boy was most always a little too cautious about his friends' antics and decisions, so it was only expected that Vern not be totally on-board for this midnight meeting.

"I'll tell you when we get to the treehouse." Chris murmured. The others exchanged glances as they walked slightly behind their dashing leader.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hullo!  
>I'd just like to send out a quick thank you to Izout for reviewingfollowing! Thanks a bunch!  
>XOX,<strong>

**-StandingByChambers**

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><p>It was weird seeing the little, ramshackle treehouse late at night. Almost creepy. The old place was stuck peacefully into the branches of the old tree, which was placed on the edge of a little prairie, near the woods. The treehouse overlooked all of Castle Rock, all the little lights twinkling from houses and shop windows.<p>

Chris had brought a flashlight, thank God. None of the four said a word, just walked as silently as possible across the dried out, high grass.

Chris lead them up the ladder to the tree house, not bothering with the secret knock, because they all knew nobody would be there.

The boys piled into the tree house, and Chris lit a single flame on a candle on the small crate that served as a table in the center of the cramped room. Teddy sat himself down on a crate across from Chris at the table, Gordie at the couch-like pile of pillows that sat by the window, and Vern on the stool opposite the couch.

"Gordie, get Teddy some bandages or something," Chris commanded as he lit a cigarette from the almost-empty emergency packet that they kept on a shelf.

Gordie obliged, grabbing an old cloth, and set to work, dabbing at Teddy's open wounds.

Even though they were itching to know what Chris had called them there for, none of them asked, waiting for his friend to think for a moment, let his eyes wander to the window, and out at the city.

Chris wet his lips absently. He seemed to not even be there. He was in his own world.

"Well?" Vern finally wined, "What are we here for?"

Chris thought for a bit.

"Ray Brower wasn't hit by a train."

He said the words so quickly, they didn't even sink in. It was like a bullet leaving a shallow cut. The boys were so shocked, they didn't even let it get deeper. They just stared at him, each frozen.

"He was murdered." Chris continued.

"Holy shit…" Gordie muttered, putting his hand on his forehead and leaning his elbow on the table, "Holy…By who?"

"My brother." Chris said, leaning back in exasperation.

"Eyeball?!" Teddy managed.

"Yeah. And the rest of the Cobras, too." Chris said. His lip trembled.

"We're screwed…" Vern muttered, "Shit, man, this is really bad. I don't like this. Sincerely."

"But how do you know?" Gordie asked, the boys leaning in, intrigued.

"I woke up couple hours ago, and Eyeball had Ace and some of the other guys in his room. They were talkin'. But I decided to eavesdrop on them, cause they're the Cobras, you know? So I hear what they were saying through the wall. 'Sucks for those kids. Little shits thought that Brower really got hit, didn't they?' they said. 'Yeah, good thing. Kid knew too much, saw too much…heard too much.

"And that's when I came here. They killed him. They killed him, guys! My own brother _killed _Ray Brower!"

"Shit, Chris, what the hell are we going to do?" Gordie asked with bated breath.

"Tell the police, of course!" Teddy said, turning to Gordie, "What else are we going to do? Keep it to ourselves? The guys _murdered _a _kid!_"

"But not right now, right?" Gordie asked.

"Hell yeah, right now!" Chris cut in, "When else?"

"Chris, it's midnight."

"So what?"

"We can't just go storming Castle Rock in the middle of the night!" Gordie insisted, leaning in towards the table.

"It's not storming, it's telling!" Teddy argued his point without fail. "We can't wait another minute."

"I don't know, guys…more talking just means more trouble with the Cobras." Vern said in a mumble, looking down at his feet, "And this is big. It's _murder._"

"Vern's right, guys." Gordie said, "And plus, if we tell the cops _right now, _they'll know it was us! You were the only one in the house, besides your folks, but if they'd heard that, they would probably confront them first."

Chris sighed defeatedly.

"Yeah, I guess so." He said.

"No way man! That's pussy!" Teddy wined.

"He's right, Ted!" Chris gave Teddy a look, who sighed and obliged.

"I rest my case." Gordie said with a smile.

"Don't be so smug, _Lachance!_" Chris countered with a white grin. "We're still gunna tell em."

"But not tonight, we're not." Gordie smiled evilly.

It was blistering hot when Chris awoke the next morning. He looked around his room, the morning sun seeping through the drawn shades, a new bruise slicing it's way through the canvas of his pale skin, sending a stroke of black and blue curling across his cheekbone. Chris wasn't in the mood. For anything. At all.

Especially school. And the looks and glares that he would get when he walked into the collage cores at 8:30.

Quietly, as not to wake is father from his alcohol-matted sleep, Chris got out of bed and began to dress. His dad had been asleep on the couch downstairs nearly all night, and couldn't be bothered with Chris at the moment. Good thing, because Chris couldn't be bothered with his father at the moment, ether. When Chris had come home late that night, his father caught him, and what had gone down had brought him the bruise across his face.

It wasn't easy being a Chambers. That was why Chris wasn't looking forwards to taking the college courses. Not because of the learning; God, Chris was excited for that. More excited than he let himself admit. Chris was, actually, looking forwards to rising above his pre-assumed identity. The identity that was just another no-good Chambers kid with a fast mouth and blood on his face. Maybe this would change that…

Chris shook his head as he pulled a white tee-shirt over his head, tied his shoes and grabbed his backpack before tiptoeing down the stairs and out the front door. His father was still snoring on the living room couch.

Chris pulled his dark blue bike up at the bicycle racks, taking the rusted chain from his backpack and locking it in place. He looked up at the big old school. Junior high. There it was. Castle Rock Middle School. Even though it was small, the brick structure looked tall and menacing, making Chris want to turn back around and run.

Kids pushed past him, and he became vividly aware the amount of children streaming into building. Boys and girls filing right into hell's armpit.

Chris sighed, and began to walk towards the place, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

He had not taken three steps forwards before Teddy came up from behind him.

"Chambers!" He said, grinning a psychopath smile, "Junior high, huh? Can't wait to be chillin' it in the shop courses with Vern and I, eh?"

Chris froze for a second. He blinked.

"What?"

"Shop courses." Teddy said, giving Chris a long, hard stare, "You're taking them. With us. You're taking the shop courses with the rest of us retards, aren't you? And Gordie'll be taking the college courses?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, right," Chris said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. How was he going to break it to Teddy and Vern that he was going to be actually learning shit that year?

"Let's go then." Teddy urged him, pulling Chris towards the school. "Onward!"

A whole new year awaited him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chris slinked away from Teddy almost as soon as they entered the school, heading straight for his locker, avoiding eyes. He knew exactly where he needed to go after he set his backpack down in the little metal chamber, but he didn't like it.

He slammed his locker shut.

"Hey, Chris," a voice said, coming up from behind and slapping him playfully on the back of his head. Chris smiled when he saw it was Gordie.

"Hey," Chris said back, "Hey, I have to tell you something." Chris leaned in closer so that nobody would hear.

"What?" Gordie asked, catching on that this was a secret.

Chris thought for a moment, but shook his head.

"Nah, never mind." He said, and began to walk away.

"What?" Gordie asked, catching up with Chris, "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Come on!" Gordie wined, "Last time you did this to me, it was about a dead kid."

"It's not about a dead kid," Chris reassured him.

"Then what's it about? Come on, I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."

"You'll find out soon!" Chris said, a mysterious twinkle in his eye, "In about five minutes, actually."

"Wha-"

Just then, the school bell rang, cutting Gordie off. He gave up, shrugged and said; "See you!"

"Not if I see you first." Chris said back in default with a smile.

That was the problem. Chris _was _going to see Gordie first.

Chris waited for a few minutes with his head stuck in his locker before he forced his feet to move themselves over to the well-lit English classroom at the end of the hall.

Chris paused at the doorknob. It wasn't too late to run back to the shop classes. Wasn't too late to put his books back and leave. It wasn't like anyone was expecting him in there, anyhow. He could avoid a lot of trouble if he just left. He could save everyone a lot of shit if he didn't step foot in that classroom. Save himself a lot of muttering, rumors in the halls.

Chris shook his head. No. This was his year. His year to finally gut it out and do something with his life. This year, as he had told himself, he was going to rise above his last name, and the expectations that came with it. He wasn't going to let their whispers and glares stop him from making something out of this nothing life. They weren't going to ruin his chances of making it.

So he turned the handle.

Inside, the room was sunny and warm. Light from the summer sky poured into the room, casting a yellow haze over the approximately 10 boys and girls sitting at desks wooden desks with their English books open and their pencils sharpened. There was a fan, feebly trying to keep the room cool (and failing) in the corner, making a nauseating buzzing white noise that flooded the entire classroom. At the front of the class, a woman stood, her dark hair tied up. She wore a white button down blouse, a dark green skirt, and an expression on her face like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Mr. Chambers!" She said, looking agog. "I wasn't expecting…" She blinked a couple times, straightened her back, and pursed her lips. "You're late." She said sternly.

"Yeah, sorry. I had some trouble, erm, finding the classroom." Chris mumbled feebly, his head down.

"Yes, well," The teacher stared him down as she sat back down at her desk, "Very well. Take a seat."

Chris did. He could feel the hot gazes of the class on his neck, sending bullet holes into his spine. They didn't like this, and neither did he. They felt like he was infiltrating their courses. _He _felt like he was infiltrating their courses.

Chris spied Gordie out of the corner of his eye, and sat down in the vacant seat behind him.

"Uh, well…" The teacher seemed a little bit rumpled, but she carried on with her class, "I'm Mrs. Elbury. Welcome to English class."

"Hey, Gordo." Chris hissed through smiling teeth, tapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Chris!" Gordie hissed back, "What the hell are you doing here?! You didn't tell me you'd be taking the college courses."

"Wanted it to be a surprise," Chris lied. The real answer was that he was just too pussy to tell them, "Wow, did you see the look on her face? Priceless."

"I'm glad you joined, Chris," Gordie said, smiling.

"Me too," Chris smiled back. He then held out his hand, palm up. "Skin it."

Gordie did. To 'skin it' meant that Gordie would drag his hand across Chris's palm, and then they would do the reverse, with Gordie's hand on the bottom facing up, and Chris's on the top, facing down.

Gordie turned back around, and watch Mrs. Elbury. She started off by talking about what they were going to be doing that year in English, class expectations, homework, et cetera. Chris tried to listen intently, but something caught his eye.

It was someone across the room. Chris didn't recognize her at first, but he then realized it was Bonnie Swan. Bonnie had been taking the college courses since she could walk, or so it was said. She was smart, and utterly gorgeous, with dark hair and black eyes that could bore their way right into your soul and see all your secrets with just one glance.

Problem was, she was staring right at Chris. And right then, he was sure that those rumors of Bonnie staring right into your mind were true. Her glare burned, as she looked with undivided interest and attention straight at him.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, and Bonnie just smiled and turned her gaze back to the front of the class. Chris's heart rate slowed

Gordie turned around in his seat to face him.

"Did you see it?" He whispered.

"See what?"

"Bonnie. She was staring at you like you were freaking God." Gordie laughed.

"Yeah, I saw." Chris said. His gaze shifted towards Bonnie, but she didn't let her's fall on him.

"Think she likes you."

"No way, man!"

"Yeah way! You've turned a new leaf, Chris. Looks like you're opening yourself up to a whole new crowd."

"I'm still a Chambers, Gordo."

"Mr. Lachance!"

Gordie spun around. Mrs. Elbury was glowering down at the two.

"Please pay attention in my class, Mr. Lachance...Mr. Chambers." Mrs. Elbury narrowed her eyes just a smidge more when she said Chris's name.

Gordie slinked back to face forwards in his chair.

"Mr. Chambers?" A voice called. Chris halted in his spot, and turned reluctantly around to face the caller. He had been so eager to get out of that English classroom…

It was Ms. Elbury who had called him. Her face was stern and her jaw set. The door to the classroom closed behind him. The room was empty.

"Mr. Chambers." She said again. A feeling began to creep up his throat. The feeling that he was caged. Trapped. But he had to look like he was fine. That was how it always was with him. Trying to look like he was fine. The whole of Castle Rock was a jail, really. This classroom just began to feel like a locked cell.

"Yeah?" Chris asked, sitting down on top of one of the desks in the front row.

"I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Alright." Chris said. He was being just a touch too cheeky, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

"You are good friends with Gordon Lachance, correct?" She asked in an interrogation-y way.

"Yeah, best friend I got, really." Chris admitted, hugging his right knee to his chest. Mrs. Elbury frowned disapprovingly at his putting his shoe up on the desk, but he ignored her completely.

"Well, I know that Gordon has been looking forward to taking the college courses for a long time. And he sure deserves it."

_Like I don't know any of this, _Chris thought incredulously, _Didn't I just tell you I'm his best friend? _

"But to be frank, I'm not exactly sure how or why you got into such advanced courses as these."

_I swear to God, I'll slap you right across that smug face of yours. _Chris's thoughts raged. But he kept his cool, giving her a look as if he was appalled and intrigued by what she was saying.

"Oh?"

"I have my hopes set on Gordie this year, Christopher." Mrs. Elbury said.

_Christopher. _Chris scoffed in his mind. Nobody _ever _called him Christopher, except Eyeball, when he was trying his best to piss him off. Or his father, when he was on a mean streak (Which was most always). But Mrs. Elbury was none of those people.

"So I don't want you bringing him down. He's worked too hard for a Chambers like you to drag him down to your level." Mrs. Elbury had absolutely no shame.

_Just shut up, please. _

"Do I make myself clear?" Mrs. Elbury asked, suddenly looking cheerful.

Chris got up from the desk and headed towards the door.

"Crystal." He told her with the most obnoxious and arrogant look on his face possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hullo guys!  
>Sorry I haven't posted in quite a bit. I haven't really been on, because I didn't have wifi for this whole weekend. I just realized that I haven't really put any author's note kind of stuff at the beginning of this story. I usually do, or did, on my fictionpress account, at least. Well, here it is. My first little note. Hope you like chapter 4! Little bit longer than the rest, which I thinkhope is a good thing. **

**Anyhow. Read on...**

**XOXO,**

**-StandingByChambers**

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><p>Chris slipped as quietly through time towards the lunch table as possible. Teddy and Vern's backs were towards him, but Gordie was facing him, and smiled when he saw the funny expression upon his friend's face. He was avoiding Vern and Teddy, and making a fool of himself for the purpose of Gordie's entertainment.<p>

"What?" That was Teddy. "What's so funny?"

"Hey!" A voice came from behind. It was Chris, looking happy and slightly nervous at the same time. He sat down at their table, which was positioned at the back left of the small lunchroom.

"Well, would you look who it is?" Teddy said, folding his hands in front of him and placing them on the table with a placid kind of annoyance. "Chambers. The kid who didn't come to shop class today. Where the hell were you, man?"

"Yeah! We had to listen to Mr. Wilson talk about 'the art of wood' for forty-five minutes straight without you." Vern cut in. His pudgy face was somehow slightly discolored.

"Yeah, about that…" Chris rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Man, they were going to be pissed. "I…I kind of joined the college courses with Gordie."

The shocked look on the two boy's faces were just enough to make Chris take back everything. "Don't get me wrong-It's not like I don't want to hang with you guys and talk about 'the art of wood', but it's just that…" Chris fumbled with his words. "How do I put this…Look, I've got this thing. It's called a last name. _My _last name. Chambers. And…I kind of have to prove to everyone in this goddamn town that it doesn't define me. Before it's too late."

Vern and Teddy just stared at him blankly.

"Well," Teddy said finally, "You're sure as hell starting to sound like one of those college course smart asses to me already. I'm telling you; keep this up and mid October, you'll be coming in wearing a suit and tie."

The others snorted.

Teddy began to pull out a cigarette.

"Shit, Teddy, put that away!" Chris quickly slapped his friend's hand away from his jacket pocket before anyone saw.

"The hell was that for?" Teddy asked incredulously, his eyes wild.

"You can't smoke in school, Ted." Chris said, giving him a dark look that asked Teddy why in God's name would he think it was okay to take a smoke with teachers looking over your shoulder every five minutes. Vern cracked up. "It's not summer anymore."

Teddy rolled his eyes, but obliged.

"Whatever you say, pop." He muttered.

"Anyways!" Vern broke the silence after a few moments. "What the hell are we going to do about the…you know…"

"Oh, shit, right." Gordie slapped his forehead. "I say we call into the station right when we get out. My place."

"But I'm not allowed in your place, remember?" Chris said with a slight groan.

Gordie sighed. Out of all the boys Gordie hung out with, Chris was most likely the most hated out of the lot, mostly because of his being branded a thief from that time in grade school when he stole the milk money.

"But it's alright." Chris added quickly, "I can go in through the back door or something."

"Naw, man," Teddy said, "Let's just go right to the station and tell them!"

"You sure?" Vern said.

"Sure as shit!" Teddy replied. The others cracked up. Teddy just looked at them blankly, as if what he had just said was completely serious.

"Alright." Gordie said in a settling tone, "We'll do that. Meet right outside of the school after class." Gordie's gaze shifted over to Chris, but his friend he wasn't listening.

Gordie punched Chris's shoulder.

"Chris." Gordie called out to him, but his eyes were glued on something across the room. "_Chris?_" Gordie waved his hand in front of his friend's face,_ "_Chrissssss…Chris!"

"What?" Chris finally snapped out of it.

"Are you good with that?" Gordie asked, craning his neck towards him as if to say 'Remember? The conversation we just had?'

"With what?" Chris wouldn't pry his eyes away from whatever he was looking at.

"Jesus…" Gordie muttered.

"What the hell'r you looking at, Chambers?" Teddy demanded bluntly, taking no feelings into account. "Heh?" He swiveled around in his seat to look in the direction of Chris's gaze, and so did Vern.

Bonnie Swan looked down at her plate abruptly, but the message was turned, exaggeratedly slow.

"Bonnie. Fucking. Swan?" He said, a look on his face like he had just been smacked.

"Well….I mean, I don't-"

"Man, she's a View chick. You can't like Bonnie Swan! She'll eat you alive! Plus, she'd never like one of us." They all knew what he meant by 'one of us'. Middle to lower class. All the kids from the View, the nearly separate part of Castle Rock where the richer people lived, almost never crossed paths with them. Nonetheless, Teddy had absolutely no control and was totally out of place.

"Gee, thanks." Chris looked down at his hands. "I don't even like her. She's just…staring at me." Chris checked again to see if her dark eyes were looking his way. They weren't.

"Yeah, of course. A Swan falling for a Chambers." Teddy scoffed, sarcasm thick in his tone. "Likely."

Gordie leaned over the table and punched him in the shoulder. Teddy glared at him.

"Ha. Thanks for reminding me, Duchamp." Chris muttered. He looked to his right, his left. "Awe, shit. Forgot my lunch at home." He frowned, thinking about what to do.

"Just buy some." Vern suggested, and the rest cackled with laughter. Nobody would even dare _touch _the school lunches, and, plus, all four of them knew that they didn't simply carry lunch money around with them. Actually, they didn't carry money in general.

"Hey," an idea sprang in Chris's mind, "Bet I can run home and come back before lunch is over."

The other three exchanged looks to each other.

"_I ran all the way hoooome!_" Vern, Teddy and Gordie howled in terrible three part harmony, "_Just to say I'm soooooryyyy!" _

Chris chuckled.

"No, seriously, guys." He said with a slight smile lingering on his lips, "Lachance, come with?" He asked. His eyes secretly pleaded him to.

"Yeah, sure." Gordie said, jumping up from his seat. "Be back soon."

Teddy and Vern turned in their seats and watched them go.

"Yeah, sure!" Teddy called after them, "Leave us here! Real great friends you are!"

"Screw them…" They heard Vern mutter.

But there were other things being said. Other things being said that Chris and Gordie could hear prickling at their ears. Judging by what they could pick up, word had most definitely gotten out that Chris was now taking the college courses.

The way Gordie saw it, the student body was like a big, fat shark, or an alcoholic man with no control. There was one person, or maybe a few people, or a couple of certain points from which gossip and rumors flowed. The rumors and gossip were to the school as a six pack of beers were to that alcoholic man, or like a dolphin to that shark. They just ate and ate and ate. They consumed this kind of stuff. Basked in it. And when the gossip ran out, they just made up shit. Anything. Everything! The sad thing was, Chris was most definitely one of those points where that stuff came from. Gossip just flowed from him. But it wasn't like he spread it. He _made _it. He _was _the gossip. He was their prime idol. Their slave. Everything he did, any time he got in trouble, word spread like wildfire. He was a pulse point. Anything he did just gave that alcoholic more stuff to get drunk on. And right now, his joining the courses was like a gallon of wine for those little assholes.

Chris and Gordie slipped out of the school and into the hot, summer air. It was easier than they had perceived, to simply leave the place. Nobody stopped them.

It was hot outside. Hotter than it was that morning. The bright sun hung high up in the sky, a glittering ball of fire that, when it struck one's skin, would send beads of sweat running down your face. It was the kind of heat that would radiate off the pavement in water-like strands.

The two boys set out, walking as fast as they could through the grueling heat.

"Can't believe they killed him." Chris muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "I always knew that Ace and Eyeball and the rest were bad, but I never knew that they would ever...you know…"

"Yeah." Gordie said. "It seems kind of impossible...I mean, what could Brower have seen and heard and stuff? He doesn't even live in Castle Rock."

Chris sighed.

"I have absolutely no never even did anything….that bad…"

Gordie and Chris exchanged a look before they both snorted with laughter. There were many things that the Cobras had done that was bad enough that if someone had overhear, they'd want them shut up. The only thing was, murder pretty much stomped every bad thing that the Cobras had ever done.

"How could they have gone as to do that? What could have possibly been so bad?" Gordie thought out loud.

"I don't know. All I know is that if they find out what we know, we'll be dead."

The two boys walked in the sweltering summer heat all the way across town to Chris's house. The two looked up at the little white house, which had obviously seen better days. It's cream-tinted paint was peeling off to reveal the matchbox-thin wood exterior.

Gordie had only been in Chris's house a few times in his lifetime. He'd seen it, but it was only on rare occasions like this one that Gordie actually set foot in the dusty old place, which reeked of alcohol and the slight undertone of mildew.

"You think your dad'll be there?" Gordie asked, still looking up at the place. Gordie would never admit it to anybody-ever-but he was actually a little scared of Chris's dad. He had an out of control temper, a crude manner and, as far as he could remember, Gordie had never seen Chris's old man sobered up. Tell the truth, Gordie never really saw Chris's dad around at all. He was almost always too drunk to keep a job for longer than a month, so he never exactly came out of the house very much, save for special things like funerals and such, where he was forced to take a shower and put away the bottle for at least a little bit.

"Definitely." Chris said with a laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his old jeans, "Probably still snoring on the couch like he was since one in the morning."

Gordie's eyes wandered to the side of his friend's face. The bruise had been there all day, but Gordie now saw the goriness of it. It was a black and blue mark, sprinkled with red where the impact of whatever had hit him cut the skin, swirled with a grotesque shade of yellow, green and purple.

Chris looked over at Gordie, and attempted to hide the wound, but it didn't work. It isn't precisely easy to hide a giant bruise on your face. So he just began to walk towards his house.

Gordie didn't follow at first. He was just lost in thought.

_Chris's dad hit him._

Well, Gordie already knew that. He always had. Chris was always being beat up. He always had bruises like that. Sometimes his mom had to call in and say he was sick because he was too cripple to go to school.

"Wait, Chris!" Gordie called, jogging to catch up to him as he trekked across the dead lawn.

Chris turned. It was obvious he was trying to hide the hurt in his chest.

"Hey." Gordie looked him straight into his eyes. "You don't have to hide that from me. I'm your best friend."

Chris looked down, and then back up again into Gordie's brown eyes.

"I know." He mumbled, and continued to walk.

"Chris." Gordie said, catching him by the arm, "If…I know it's hard. Obviously. It's just…if you ever need any help. Anything-"

"Yeah, Gordo." Chris sent him a feeble smile, "But I'd be calling your sorry ass over to my place every half an hour, though-"

"Don't say that." Gordie gripped his arm tighter as he tried to turn away, "Don't say that. I'm just a lucky-ass bastard that I don't get beat every day, but I swear to God, Chris, if ever in your life you need a place to hide…I'm here."

"I know." Chris said. He was almost not presence in the air. "I've always known. I've always know you'd be there for me. Your parents, on the other hand-"

"Fuck my parents!" Gordie threw his hands in the air. "You need help, you need to get away, well then they can just fall off a cliff for all I care."

Chris smiled. A sad little smile, sending a little bit of a lift across his entire face.

"You're my best friend, man." Gordie croaked, "They can't change that."

Chris smiled a little wider and ruffed Gordie's hair.

"Let's go get my shit before dad craps a mountain if he catches us out here." Chris said, and the two inched cautiously towards the house.

Chris's house was just as Gordie remembered it to be; musky and scented of his father's beer. The scent was overwhelming, and Gordie tried his best to hold in a cough.

The boys looked around the dusty place. In front of them was the living room, with their old TV and the worn-out couch, which was covered in dirt and grime and other things of unknown origins. To the left was the dining room, which consisted of a beat-up old table and four mis-matched chairs. Behind that was the kitchen, but neither boys could make out what horrors that could possibly bestow, for the lights were off. Between the living room and the dining room, a set of old stairs that lead up to the bedrooms, on the side of which was a hallway, a single light flickering to light the way down the wall-papered walls. That hallway, Gordie guessed, lead to the door to the basement or a closet or bathroom or something. He really couldn't tell what was at the end of it. There was simply an ugly-looking door standing there like a body guard.

"Wait here." Chris said in a loud whisper, and crept towards the kitchen. Instantly, he was engulfed in the darkness. Chris flicked a light on somewhere beyond the dark room. Gordie could hear his footsteps hit the creaky wood floors.

_Chris's dad hit him. _

The thought popped up in Gordie's mind before he could even stop it. It kept coming back, poking at the back of his brain. The thing was, it was like Chris felt as if he couldn't do anything about it. He felt like it was a fate created by God. Something that he couldn't change.

Chris

(_Chris's_)

Felt

(_Dad_)

Completely

(_Hit_)

Powerless

(_Him_)

There was a crash. A loud crash, coming from the end of the dark hallway. Gordie swiveled his head around, just in time to see the door at the end of the hallway burst open, to revile a man. He was a large, burly man in a stained white shirt, and a line of stubble across the bottom half of his face, making it clear to Gordie that he hadn't shaved in days. His hair was of a dark blond, greying at the roots. A half-empty bottle of cheap beer lolled back and forth, hanging loosely at his side, the neck of it pinched dangerously between the man's beefy thumb and forefinger. His blood-shot blue eyes widened when he saw Gordie.

_And this must be Mr. Chambers._

"H-hey!" The man yelled, just as Chris stumbled out of the dark kitchen, a brown paper bag in hand, "Hey!"

Gordie's whole body was paralyzed for only a few moments before he turned and ran. He didn't even look back.

Gordie bolted out of the door and down the lawn.

He scaled the picket fence that surrounded the Chambers's property with little difficulty, the grey soles of Gordie's Converse shoes hitting the pavement with a loud slap. That slap seemed to be the only thing he could hear over the sound of Chris's father shouting. He didn't even know if Mr. Chambers was following him or not. He simply ran.

After about two blocks of running, Gordie stopped to take a breather. His chest was heaving, his throat raggedy and his face wan and pasty, the blood drained from it's skin. Sweat stuck his dark hair to his forehead and the back of his neck. He looked down the street. Mr. Chambers wasn't even chasing him. He might as well have never been, but Gordie had been stuck in a trance of terror. He felt the same kind of desperate, uncontrollable fear that he had that day in the junkyard when Chopper had chased him.

In hindsight, Chris knew it was stupid bringing Gordie to his house. He already had known it was stupid to bring _himself _there, but to bring Gordie, well….

Chris felt so small, standing there in the living room, looking up at his father's furious eyes.

"Heyyyy dad." Chris said in a small voice.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Chambers's voice was dark and deep. His breath was weirdly warm and smelled like beer.

"I just…" Chris held up the paper bag, "Forgot my lunch."

Chris's father looked at him for a bit.

"And you had to bring that Lachance kid around here with you?" Mr. Chambers questioned.

Chris struggled for an answer.

"I got into the college courses!" Chris mumbled cheerfully, changing the subject.

"College courses, ay?" Mr. Chambers raised an eyebrow in an amused way that made Chris fume, "And how did you do that?"

"I just…" Chris thought for a second. "I asked. They thought I was smart just let me in."

"So what are you going to do there? Learn some math and stuff? What's that to me?"

"I'm…I'm going to better my life." Chris looked down.

"Better your life?" Mr. Chambers's voice was rising, his face turning a putrid cream-red of ketchup mixed heavy cream, "What for?"

"I…" Chris stumbled with his words, "I want to go to college. I can live a better life."

"Collage!?" Mr. Chambers burst out laughing. "I ain't payin for any goddamn _collage. _Fuckin _expensive. _Fuckin useless. You'll never be any more than you are now. Useless."

"That's not true." Chris advanced on his father, "I'm going a better way now. I'm going on a different road. And every step leads further and further away from you and Eyeball and this entire fucking _town!_"

Mr. Chambers scoffed.

"Do you really think that any college is going to give a kid with your last name a scholarship to anywhere? You really think they're going to let a Chambers into Yale?"

Chris narrowed his eyes.

"That's just it." He spat. "That's where you're wrong. This little shit of a town is like your world. And in this little world, our name is jinxed. But outside of here, nobody knows who we are. The name Chambers means absolutely nothing to anyone outside of this place. You just can't see that because you are just too ignorant. And I think that you _like _being a Chambers. You like being able to have an excuse to get drunk and stay in here all day. You can just say it's fate. But maybe I don't want to have an excuse. Maybe I don't want to have my mistakes pre-made for me. And maybe, just maybe, I want to actually have a _life, _instead of just blaming it on my _father, _and his father, and his father, all the way back to the first fucked up Chambers ever created. And _god forbid _that I leave this town and try to make something of myself."

And he was gone. He slammed the door behind him and walked down the street until he met Gordie a couple blocks down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Heyyo again!  
>Jesus, this is an intense chapter, I must admit. Heh, I'm proud thought. I would like to thank the Bastille album 'VS' for setting the mood for this chapter. I just got it, and it's amazing. So yeah, just wanted to say that. I know; Nobody cares. Heh. Oh well. Chapter 5, everyone!<strong>

* * *

><p>Gordie flopped down, belly up, on his bed. His face was bruised and bloody. Everything hurt. The curtains were drawn. The room was dim. None of the lights were on. The door was closed. Gordie had wished he'd locked it. His feet throbbed. He held in tears. His heart forced pump after heaving pump of blood through his body. His mind raged. His inflamed ribcage expanded and contracted with each lung-full of chalky air.<p>

"Gordon!" Gordie heard feet stomping up the carpeted stairs. He groaned and rolled over on his side, burying his beat-up face in his dark blue pillowcase. His mother. "Gordie? Gordon!"

Gordie's mother burst into his room. He tried to hide his face, but the blood from his nose that had dribbled down his shirt gave it away.

She scanned the room. Even though the closed curtains hid it, the window was open, warm summer air billowing the thick cloth and letting in a little light onto the carpet. Mrs. Lachance hadn't left it that way. She knew that. He must have gotten into the house through the window…somehow.

"Gordie…" Her tone was softer. "What happened to you?"

Gordie just shook his head. His mother kneeled down next to him, suddenly stern.

"Gordon Lachance, what the hell happened to you?"

He was never going to tell her.

"Everyone?"

That was Vern's voice. Remembering it later that day, everything seemed kind of fuzzy until Vern had said those words.

"Yep."

The four glanced at each other.

Was it time to put the Cobras to justice once and for all? They were just about to find out.

The streets were hot in the sweltering heat. The boys sauntered down the street in a straight line across. From left to right, there stood Chris, Gordie, Teddy and then Vern, their feet planting themselves down on the hot asphalt in almost perfect unison. They did not speak. Their faces were dark as they stood, shoulder to shoulder, walking on like proud soldiers out to war.

It was Teddy that spoke first. It was almost silent at first, but when the speech fell upon them, it was like a ghost coming back to haunt them from those few days out on their adventure to the Back Harlow Road.

"_Have gun, will travel reads the card of a man…_" Teddy murmured in a whisper. Chris joined. Their two voices sung out like a battle cry into the heat of the day, "_A night without armor in a savage land…_" Vern joined, and Gordie last.

"_Paladin, Paladin, where do you roam?_"

The Ballad of Paladin rang in their hearts. This was the fated song that chorused it's way eerily though their long-lost, tabooed adventure. The more Gordie thought about that, the more it sent shivers down his spine. The whole thing was a little bit…creepy. Just a couple of twelve-year-olds venturing out across the train tracks with no supervision and a .45 to find a dead body. Years late, Gordie let himself admit that it was stupid. Of course it was stupid! He had always known that it was, but he had never let himself see the whole journey in it's full view until he had aged a reasonable amount, away from his young, unknowing self.

"_Paladin, Paladin, far, far from home…_"

The police station began to trickle into view out in the horizon. A few hundred feet, maybe, and the boys would be there. It was almost four o'clock now. The sun was beginning to inch closer and closer to the horizon, as if it's gravity was getting tired of holding it up all the way above their heads.

Suddenly, so suddenly that it scared the living crap out of the boys, something jumped at them from behind. It was a figure. A person, of spiky, white-blond hair and a face like a weasel. He came crashing right between Chris and Gordie, landing badly on the balls of his right foot. Straightening himself out, the tall, older boy placed his bulky frame right in front of the boys on the sidewalk, blocking their path. His large arms were folded, his blue eyes narrowed.

"Ace." Chris snarled, holding his ski-slope nose high in the air, defiant. "Get your ass out of here."

Ace cocked his head to the right and stared Chris down in a way that made you want to punch him.

"Oh?" Ace said, in a voice that could be mistaken as sweet if not for the sickly smirk that was forever smacked across his face. "Where are you girlies going, then?"

"None of your business, _Ace._" Gordie spat, stepping a little closer. Gordie knew he was out of line. He just couldn't help it. They were standing right in front of Ray Brower's killer. He had no obligation to be nice.

"Ohhh." Ace tried to look hurt, but they all knew it was fake. Of course it was. Things like that never hurt Ace. _Nothing _ever hurt Ace. "Well _that _was rude."

"Why are you here?" Teddy asked with a snarl.

"Eeeasy, Tedster." Ace said cockily, taking a step closer to Teddy. A glint in their friend's glasses showed them that he was not afraid (Or so it looked. Whatever was on the inside was a mystery).

From their left side, an automobile recognizable as Ace's car drove and pulled up next to them. Eyeball, Charlie Hogan, and Billy Tessio were piled into the old car.

"C'mon, Ace, let's just get this over with. We don't have all day…" Eyeball half wined, until Ace shot him a dirtily look.

"Hey!" Ace snapped, almost yelling. Taken aback, Eyeball shut his mouth abruptly, blinking a few times. More calmly this time, Ace continued. "Just shut up and give me a little bit with your…darling little brother…" Ace reached out to mockingly stroke the top of Chris blond head. Chris jumped back, slapping Ace's hand away boldly.

Eyeball rolled his eyes, but leaned back in his seat, obliging.

"Anyways." Ace turned to the boys. The smirk across his face was like a bad cold; It just wouldn't go away. It kept biting at you. Annoying you. "Where you headed to?"

Vern nodded towards the station.

"Police station." He said. This was a step outside of the box for Vern, for he didn't exactly like to stand up to Ace, but the boys just glared at him. It wasn't like they _wanted _Ace to know about their little adventure.

"Police station, ay?" Ace sneered. "Why'd you be going there, huh? They find out about all your rule breaking you've been doing? Oh, wait, you goodie goodie pussies were even too scared to pull the trigger on old Ace, am I right? Couldn't do anything bad, could you?"

Gordie reddened at the memory, his fists clenched.

"Yeah, but you sure did run like he just shot your ass, didn't you?" Chris said spitefully, folding his arms.

Ace set his jaw.

"Yeah. Ran right outa there like Gordie'd been the Grim Reaper, that's how! Haha! Ran outa there like you'd just seen a ghost. Pussies. Ha!" Vern had tried. Vern had failed. They let Ace get his laugh. It was well deserved.

"It's true, though." Chris said, trying to patch up the big Vern-induced hole in their almost flawless line of comebacks. "Ran right out of there. Not all tough, are you? Gun wasn't even loaded. Some smarts _you_ have."

That wasn't completely true. The gun _had _been loaded, but any amount of white lies could be made in order to bring Ace Merrill down.

"Well then." Ace said. His smirk was gone. "You think _you're_ so tough? Let's see who's so tough. You didn't even turn the kid in. Just left him cause you didn't have the balls for another hiding from daddy for lying to him, didn't you?"

That one hurt. Ace knew it. Vern knew it. Teddy knew it. Gordie knew it. Chris felt it in his chest, burning in his cheeks.

Ace leaned back on his heels with satisfaction when he saw Chris's expression of hatred.

Maybe it hurt a little bit too much.

"Yeah." Chris stepped closer to him. His voice was cracked a little, and dangerously unstable. His fists were in balls. "Yeah. Didn't turn in the kid that you _murdered_."

Gordie, Vern and Teddy looked at Chris in utter disbelief.

Ace's face drained of color. He went completely white. The smirk was gone. The cocky smile was wiped straight off his board of traits. He was frozen. The terror in his eyes were priceless.

And then he boiled over. Color returned, a dark rouge painting across his entire face.

"Shit, no you did _not_!" Eyeball yelled, and the rest of the Cobras jumped out of the car.

"You-You!" Ace was stuttering in pure rage. The others formed a circle around him. The boys were outnumbered.

"It _can't-Agh!_" Charlie had his head in his hands. Chris just looked smug. For the moment, they had the Cobras in the palm of their hands.

"Chris." Eyeball's eyes were pleading and filled. "Chris, you _know _you can't tell anyone. Mom and…and dad, they'll…It'll ruin everything!"

"Not like you haven't already shitted all over your entire future." The other boys didn't know weather to pat Chris on the back or kick him in the shins. He was going to get their asses kicked real bad if he kept this up. "This probably won't make any difference."

"_Please, _Chris-"

"Wait." Ace said. His sly smile had returned. _Oh no. _"They won't tell. They wouldn't."

_How can they possibly blackmail us? We didn't do anything! _The thought was simultaneous.

"They won't tell, cause we'll beat the crap out of them." Ace smirked.

"Oh really? And how will that stop us?" Chris was unstoppable, and it was perfectly okay with the others if he did all the talking.

"Let's just call this…a preview of what would happen to you guys if you try to tell _anyone_."

"Wha-"

And they were onto them. It was the worst kind of pain that any of them had experienced in a while. Ace lunged on Chris, holding him in a headlock. It was a brutal beating. The rest of the Cobras pounced on the boys. Air was knocked straight out of their lungs. They could feel the blood running down their faces, doubled over in pain, kicked and punched and thrown to the ground. Fist flew, and even though the boys tried to fight back, the older boys were simply too strong, too big.

"Stop it!"

"Help!"

Nobody heard. And when they were nearly done, the boys had been beaten black and blue, in pure pain.

Ace spat in Chris's bloody hair.

"Don't tell." He hissed. "Because if you even try…we have our ways to shut you up."

Ace drew a finger across his neck.

The Cobras loaded into the car.

"We'll be watching you! Especially Mr. Phony Smart Ass over there! Have fun in your college courses, Chambers! Never going to get past the first week."

The car drove away. They listened to the rubber burn violently against the asphalt.

Flopped on the deserted back road. They had long since realized that there would be no help for them. They'd have to pick up their _own _asses and get home before anyone saw their faces.

"We are so fucked."

The voice had no owner. Unrecognizable, because swollen lips and bloody mouths made it hard to talk normally.

"So absolutely fucked."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hullo!  
>Alright, sorry for the relatively short chapter. I haven't posted in quite a bit, I know, and yes, I know, it's winter break, why are you not working on this 247...Yeahhh I have no excuse. Just have been a tad bit lazy, is all. **

**Anyways. I just got back on FanFiction after a long time of not checking my stats and I swear my views skyrocketed. I have no idea what happened by thank you guys so much! Also, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter. You guys rock!**

**So yahh. Chapter 6...**

"Gordie!"

And Gordie still said nothing.

"Gordie, answer me. Who did this to you? I need to know if you want anything done about it."

That was the problem. Gordie didn't want _anything _done about it.

Gordie just shook his head at his mother. He was still there, in his room, and he knew she wasn't moving until he told her what had happened to him. Why he was bleeding all over his bed. Why he was sitting there, crying like a two year old. But hey, he could put off the answer for as long as possible. He could pretend like he couldn't speak through his crying. He knew that it was that kind of ugly crying; a kind of sob that came out in jolty hiccups, sent snot rolling down towards your lip, gooey saliva working up in your mouth. It was the kind of uncontrollable tears that drenched your face and could make even the toughest of boys look like a fool. And even more so when you were all bruised up and black and purple.

Still, Gordie shook his head. Still he held his mouth tightly closed. The only sounds he would be uttering to his mother about why he was in this state would be the loud cries that he couldn't help but let slip from his lips.

"Gordie." His mother stared him deep in the eye, so stern that it made him want to look away. Her mouth was thin and tight, her face tense and worried at the same time. She seemed angry. That's what scared Gordie the most. It would turn into yelling, he knew, if he didn't tell her soon. He had to say _something. _

"It was…" Gordie pushed his eyelids together, closing his eyes for a few moments, then wrenched them open. "I…I was crossing the street…and a car came. It came…out of nowhere, so I jumped just in time. It didn't get me, but….I fell into the ditch by the side of the road."

His mother raised an eyebrow.

"You fell?" She said, obviously unconvinced.

"It was a big ditch." Gordie tried, but it was obviously something else. "Almost a small hill. Didn't even realize it. The car just came zooming past." He made a 'zooming' motion with his hands while exhaling air through his teeth to make a _sheww _sound, to symbolize the speed of the automobile.

Mrs. Lachance nodded slightly, somehow absent in the conversation. Her eyes seemed full of vacant fury, fear and uncertainty.

"Alright."

Chris's cold fingers shook as he dialed the number on the keypad of the black plastic telephone. The family phone sat in the living room, but the cord cable was long enough for him to drag it into the bathroom and lock the door. Praying to God that his dad didn't follow the cord and find him curled up there, huddled between the sink and the toilet, hugging receiver under his chin and the dialing part to his chest, Chris punched the last number. The dial tone droned out on the other end. It drilled into his skull and pounded in his ear.

Finally, a voice at the end of the line.

"Lachance residence. Who's this?" It was Gordie's father. His voice sounded hard and annoyed, a tone rippled with the attitude that he didn't want to be there.

"Yeah, this is, uh…" Chris caught himself before he said his name. He knew how Gordie's parents felt about him, and this wasn't the time to get in a discussion with Mr. Lachance about it. "Um, could I speak to Gord…on…Gordon? Please?"

There was some kind of grumbling on the end of the phone, then white-noise shuffling around.

"Who is this?" The voice had almost no emotion.

"It's…" Chris considered lying, but there was nothing else he could say. He was just Chris. He sounded like Chris. Only Chris would want to talk to Gordie on the phone at such an hour, anyways. "It's-"

"Dad?" Another voice entered the conversation. Chris immediately recognized it as Gordie, and he sighed with relief. "Dad, I'm on the other line. I'll talk to him."

There was a little bit of silence on Mr. Lachance's end, until he finally grunted a reply.

"Alright." He said gruffly, "Not too late, Gordon. Got all your homework done, did you?"

"Yes, sir." Gordie said, his voice threaded with exasperation.

"Come down for dinner when you're done."

Chris heard the satisfying end-of-call click when the receiver met the base.

"Alright. What's up." Gordie said after a few seconds, listening for any breathing on the other end.

"We need to talk."

"You're sure no one's listening in?"

"Only one phone in the house, remember? Besides, I locked myself in the bathroom."

"Alright. Give me a sec." There was shuffling on the other end, and some footsteps. Muffled conversation. The sound of a door shutting. Then Gordie's voice stuck out through the quiet that consumed the phone.

"Did you learn anything new? Did Eyeball say anything?"

"He wouldn't be so stupid. He already knew we overheard them." Chris said with a sigh. "Even though he _is _pretty stupid."

"Yeah." Gordie chuckled. "What did you tell your parents about the beating?"

"Told them what it was." Chris said nonchalantly. "Got beat up. Nothing to it."

"Told them I fell into a ditch trying to dodge a car." Gordie said, with a feeble laugh at his feeble excuse.

"Oh, Teddy style, right?" Chris snorted, recalling their friend's wonderful habit of dodging cars and trucks on a daily basis.

"Right." Gordie smiled. Chris could hear it in his voice; the way the words turned up at the end. You can kind of hear a smile. When people sing, when they talk. The voices sound just a little more muddled from the influence of the different mouth position.

"Well." The real reason that he had called his friend was heavy in his voice and his rapidly rising chest. Watching the crack under the door for any shadows that indicated someone listening in, he whispered, "What the hell are we going to do?"

There was silence on the other end. Chris knew he was still there because he could hear his heavy breath pushing into the receiver.

"We need to tell someone." Gordie said. His voice was somehow…chilled.

"Yeah, well," Chris fingered the caking scabs up his cheekbone, defined by bruises and blackish dried blood, "We know now that we can't exactly do that. Not with them up our asses the whole time with knives and guns and shit."

"They aren't going to kill us. You know that, right?" Gordie pressed, "They don't have the nerve."

"Hmm." Chris rolled his eyes silently, "But they had the nerve to kill Brower, didn't they?

Gordie's somewhat steady breathing faltered a little.

"It's just that…I don't know what to do." Chris ran a hand through his hair, then wiped his nose. The smell in the dirty bathroom was getting to him. He was practically waiting for a cockroach to come scuttling out of the rancid-smelling toilet. "I mean, _we're _suppose to have _them _under _our _thumb, man! How are they _still _getting us?"

"I know. It's just…weird. We can't tell anyone, can we? They've got stations at all of our houses."

"Not exactly…" An idea popped into Chris's mind. "Not at yours."

"Ohhhh no…" Gordie breathed. He obviously didn't like where this was going.

"Ohhh yes." Chris sat up a little. "I think we've got them. They can't get into your house, can they? So you can just call the police from there! Then then can't stop us!"

"Why can't Teddy do it?" Gordie wined.

"Teddy doesn't have a phone, remember?" Chris reasoned. "Plus, you _know _we can't trust him to do that. And I can't do it because of Eyeball, and Tessio can't do it because of Billy! So you have to, man."

Gordie was silent.

"You have to!"

"Fine!" Gordie lashed out, defeated. "I'll do it, I'll do it. Fuck's sake…"

"Great, man. Haha! We have them." Chris pumped his fist in the air.

"But can you come over?" Gordie pleaded. "I can't do it alone!"

"I _can't._" Chris said, referring to the rule that he wasn't allowed in the Lachance's house. "Rememberrrrr…?"

"Whatever. I'll sneak you in." Gordie said.

"But I can't talk to them. If I do, they'll think it's just another no-good Chambers kind trying to get his brother in trouble."

"Fine. Alright. You can just be there. Just…_please._"

"Okay." Chris sighed. "Fine. After school tomorrow?"

"Done." Gordie said. They both mentally 'skinned it'.

"See you tomorrow." Chris said with a sorry kind of sigh.

"See you."

There was silence, and Chris thought for sure that Gordie had hung up. But he didn't.

"Chris?" Gordie asked. His voice sounded different. Younger.

"Yeah?"

A long pause.

"Good night."

"Night, Gordo."

Chris waited until he heard the end-of-call beeping that made his ears bleed to put the receiver down.

It was funny. Gordie could felt like somebody was watching him. Always. He felt the eyes piercing the back of his neck with each step. But every time he turned, nobody was there. Or maybe somebody _was. _He just didn't know it. Didn't see it.

He almost fell asleep in class four times that day. He'd counted. Everything felt vague and misty. Almost surreal. He knew that nothing would become clear until school ended. Nothing would come into perspective until he dialed the numbers on the white plastic keypad of the family phone.

"Gordie!"

"Jesus Christ, what!?" Gordie jumped. He had his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on the wooden school desk.

"Gordie. Come on." It was Chris. He was standing in the empty classroom, his hand extend to his friend. "Class is over. Lets get out of here."

Gordie looked around. The sunny English classroom was deserted. With a sigh, he got up from his seat and dragged himself across the room towards the door. Chris followed.

"Jesus, man, how much did you sleep last night?" Chris breathed. "You've been sleeping through every class."

"Yeah." Gordie ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Only a few hours. I'm nervous as fuck."

"Me too." Chris said with a sigh, even though he seemed relatively calm. They were in the hallway then. The other kids had cleared out ages ago. "Hey. You recon we should tell the guys?"

Gordie shrugged as he slowed by his locker, putting in the combination. "Too late for that. We should have, though."

"Yeah, well, you were sleeping all over your food, so-"

"Al-_right, _I'm sorry!" Gordie slammed his locked shut. "How much sleep did _you _get last night, huh?"

Chris shrugged.

"More than you, that's for sure. Even with Eyeball in the house."

Gordie glowered, but kept his mouth shut.

Pushing the main school door open with a feeble attempt at strength, the two friends stepped out onto the concrete steps outside the school.

"Ahh, here they are!"

Gordie and Chris looked up, and, to their surprise, there stood Eyeball and Ace. They had sly smiled playing across their lips, enough to make the boys cringe.

"What now?" Chris muttered, glaring at his brother and his friend.

"Just wanted to check on my little brother and his darling friend, is all!" Eyeball said sweetly as Chris and Gordie stepped down the stairs. "And dad wants you home."

"Well, too bad." Chris spat, trying to push past him. "I'm not going home."

"He wants you home now, Chris." Eyeball snarled, but the other two were already jogging down the street.

"Fuck off!" Chris yelled back, throwing him the middle finger.

Chris and Gordie knew that Eyeball and Ace were following them. It was so obvious. So obvious, in fact, that it became clear that they were making sure that the boys _knew _that they were being followed.

Chris and Gordie stuck close together, shoulder to shoulder. Any conversation passed was passed in secret.

"Bet they think that we're going to the station." Chris whispered.

"They _know _we wouldn't try _that _again." Gordie mumbled back. With a flick of his neck, he looked behind him. Ace and Eyeball were walking a few hundred yards down the sidewalk, watching them.

"Hey, you never know; Maybe I share some of Eyeball's 'stupid' genes." Chris joked.

Gordie laughed a tight, restricted laugh.

"Oh, we all knew that from day one." Gordie teased, shoving Chris lightly.

"You're so dead." Chris growled playfully, pushing Gordie's cap over his eyes.

Nostalgia pulsed across his brain waves. Gordie remembered when Denny used to do that to him.

Gordie's house was a cute little house, despite the peeling white paint, which sat at the end of a dead-end rural gravel road. Mr. Lachance wasn't home from work yet, as usual, but Mrs. Lachance was probably inside, making dinner. Eyeball and Ace had eventually slinked away, which was odd. Wasn't it obvious to them that the two boys going to Gordie's house was more than just a regular hang-out? Either way, they were gone, and although it made the boys suspicious, it was no reason not to carry on with their plan.

Gordie walked in through the front door, letting the screen bang behind him. As assumed, his mother was in the kitchen, boiling potatoes for that night's dinner.

"Hey Gordie!" She said, looking up only briefly from her work. "How was school?"

"Uh, good." Gordie mumbled, and walked as casually as possible across the living room. When he was out of sight of Mrs. Lachance, he broke into a run towards the back door.

"How were all your classes?" Mrs. Lachance called.

"Uh…" Gordie struggled to multitask as he eased open the creaky back door open. Standing on the other side of the mosquito netting was Chris, his blue eyes full of something that was recognizable as both fear, question, unease and pure eagerness. "Good! Fine."

Gordie unlatched the screen door and let Chris step his Conversed feet onto the cream-colored carpet. Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning back a little bit as he looked around the place. He hadn't been snuck into Gordie's house in a while, and the place had changed slightly. He had only been there pre-Denny's death, and now the Lachance residence had begun to be more run-down with every passing day. Gordie locked the door silently again, and ushered Chris back towards the stairs up to the second floor. Silently, they padded up the two flights.

"Gordie, don't forget-"

"Going to do homework now, mom!" Gordie called from the landing. "Bye!"

"Oh…Okay!"

Gordie lead Chris down the hallway. They turned when they reached Mr. Lachance's crowded, messy study. The telephone sat atop his cluttered desk, buried under layers upon layers of papers and unpaid bills and old newspapers from three years back.

Chris moseyed into the room, looking around as if he didn't have a care in the world. That kind of attitude always boggled Gordie's mind. Chris was usually very open about what was going on inside, but sometimes he pulled this kind of act that made him look completely calm. How could that be? If Gordie was feeling like fireworks were going off in his stomach, how could Chris not be feeling the same?

Gordie closed the door softly, turning the lock as slowly and soundlessly as possible. The little click made him jump. Somehow, everything felt like he was trying to tiptoe through a minefield.

Gordie didn't exactly know how, but the next thing he knew, he was hugging his knees to his chest, his fingers trembling, holding the receiver up to his ear. He was squished in a corner, a wall on one side, Chris on the other. He could feel his friend's hot breath on his neck. The base of the phone was on Chris's lap, his fingertips and knuckles growing white and bloodless from gripping it so hard.

The dial tone rang out. It was the only thing that Gordie could hear. That and Chris's breathing. And both their hearts beating. They were like two drums, pounding in the soft silence.

"Chris." Gordie said as they waited. "I just want to…I just want to say that….I know now…and I think you know too….that maybe…going to see that Brower kid was a big mistake."

"Well, no shit." Chris muttered, resting his bruised cheek in his hands.

"No, seriously." Gordie's hand shot out, fingers digging softly into Chris's pale arm. "Seriously, man. If I could go back in time, I would have never-"

"And you think I wouldn't have?" Chris said. His eyes were inflamed, almost filled with light tears, but not quite yet. "He's my _brother. _You think…" Chris took a deep breath, calming his anger. "Naw, never mind, just-"

"Castle Rock Police, how may I help you?" A young woman's voice came through the receiver. Gordie's breath caught.

"Umm…" Gordie couldn't speak for the first few seconds. "Yes, I…I'd like to report a murder."

"A murder?" The voice laughed a laugh like the tinkling of bells. Gordie's skin crawled. "Golly, kid, why would there ever be a murder in Castle Rock?"

"I don't know _why._" Gordie's pulse quickened. All senses and feelings were heightened. "I just know what I heard."

"And to whom am I speaking to?" The girl asked in that laughing voice of her's.

"Gordon Lachance." Gordie said.

"Well, see here, Gordon." She said. "Murder is a very big thing. How old are you?"

"I'm thirteen." A lie.

"Well, I'd suggest to you, Gordon Lachance, that you go and play with your friends. You have no business pranking the police station like this. You'd have some nerve. This is a serious offense, this here. I'd better report you, but I won't, because I feel like you don't exactly know what you're doing."

"NO!" Gordie shouted. "No! Listen, it was Ace Merrill and Eyeball Chambers and the rest of their gang-They killed Ray Brower! I swear, we heard him say-"

"You're starting fires you can't put out, Gordie." The voice said. Gordie grew cold. His face was drained of color.

"But-"

_Bleeeeeeeep. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey again!  
>It's a new chapter...yahhh...<strong>

**Sorry about the shortness of this chapter...not exactly the longest I've ever written, but hey, it's something. **

**I know I said that I would be away for a while (Didn't I? I think I did...) But I got some wifi, so I decided to post. **

**Okay, this author's note thing is getting nowhere right now so...**

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><p>Chris didn't know how, or why, but he awoke. Somehow. And awakening had to be a product of sleeping.<p>

He looked down. Gordie's head was resting heavily on Chris's chest. Gordie's arm was slung uselessly around Chris's neck, and Chris's was held comfortingly on Gordie's back. His cheeks were still slightly damp from tears, the skin glistening with the cold wetness. Gordie's eyes were shut tightly, and he looked far from peaceful. His usually neat hair had fallen out of it's clean side part and fell over his eyelashes, which were stuck together like they are after you go swimming, or after you cry for a very long time.

Oh. That's right. The two boys had been crying. Crying like babies. That was a memory that Chris kind of wanted to suppress.

But for good reason, they cried. The voice of the operator at the station was the voice of Ace's girlfriend. Which meant she would tell them. Which meant they would be…

A lump grew in Chris's throat. What had they done? Why had they thought it would be _fun _to go chasing that dead kid? Gordie was right; it was stupid. _Stupid. _So utterly stupid.

They had been holding each other, grabbing for something solid to hold onto. They were going to die. They were going to be killed. Chris had been crying, tears soaking into Gordie's shoulder. He could feel his friend's hair brushing his neck, the tears soaking down his back. Fear was in their chests. It rang throughout the room. Silent terror, swooping on on them at all angles.

They lashed out in the darkness that was their faint hearted panic, friend holding friend to each other's beating chest.

They were going to kill them.

"We shouldn't have-"

"We can hide-"

"Not forever-"

"Yes we can-"

"No. We can't hide from what we've already done. We can't hide from Brower."

"We can leave."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Somewhere. Take the others."

"No."

"Why?"

"I have family. So do you."

"Fuck the family! We can start over. _I _can start over."

"Your name doesn't always have to define you, Chris!"

"In this town, it does."

"We _can't._"

"Yes we can."

"We'll die. They'll _find us._"

And that was how it had gone. They had been up there for about an hour or so, and the talking had subsided eventually into just sobbing, holding each other as if they were the only things that they would ever hold onto again. They were each other's lifelines. They were in it together. In deep shit, that was. They both knew it.

Nobody would find their bones.

"Gordie?"

Chris jumped. There was a voice, throwing down the hall as the owner climbed the stars.

Mr. Lachance.

Chris looked down at Gordie. He looked like a wooden marionette, his face painted a pale white, splayed uselessly across Chris's persona.

"Gordo." Chris shook him listlessly. His voice was a soft whisper, horse from the silent sobbing that he forced himself to mute. Gordie's lids fluttered open. His brown eyes were still damp. He reminded Chris instantly of a little dog looking up in confusion and sadness after his owner just beat him.

"What?" Gordie croaked.

"Gordie, where are you? Dinner!" Mr. Lachance was inching closer and closer to the study. "Shit."

Both boys scrambled up from the floor. The telephone tumbled from Chris's lap onto the carpet.

"Gordon, are you in here?"

The doorknob rattled. They began to panic. Chris looked around frantically for someplace to hide.

"Gordie, open this door right now!"

"One…one second!" Gordie yelled. The window was open, and Chris lunged for it, but Gordie stopped him. His eyes told him 'No way, man!'.

"Gordie!"

"The curtains!" Gordie hissed. With his heart beating faster and faster, Chris rolled himself into the white fabric that hung by the window.

Gordie sprinted for the door, unlocking it with a click. Chris could slightly see through the curtain. Mr. Lachance was standing in the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest.

"Why was this door locked?" He asked, interrogation thick in his tone. His words held the fiery bite of a lit cigarette.

"Uh, I had to make a phone call." Gordie told him.

"With the door locked?" He didn't believe it. Mr. Lachance looked past Gordie, around the room, and then at the phone that sat sprawled on the floor, right at Chris's feet.

Mr. Lachance began to walk over. Every step he took felt like a bass beat from too-loud speakers, thumping in Chris's ears.

He knelt down, inspecting the phone. The carpet where they sat was still warm. Chris knew it. He could see from the look on Mr. Lachance's face that he knew it too.

Gordie's father's eyes were the same color as his son's. Chris found this out when he saw them dart up to where Chris's face was pushing through the curtain. He took a quick breath in, trying not to breathe for fear of being found out.

But he already was.

Mr. Lachance slowly eased up from his spot on the floor, until he was almost nose to nose with Chris. They could feel each other's breathing. Mr. Lachance's were hot on Chris's face. He just stared. And stared some more. Trying to figure Chris's predicament out.

And with one mighty swoop, the curtains were pulled off of Chris's body. He was exposed. And could say or do nothing. Fury coated Mr. Lachance's eyes. Gordie put his head in his hands.

"Dad, it's-"

But Chris had already leaped out of the second story window, and was running across the lawn, away.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Gordon Lachance, you tell me why you and that Chambers kid locked yourself in that office, or by God-I haven't hit you since you were five but I am not afraid to do it now!"

"I can't tell you, dad!" Gordie was desperate. He needed help. He couldn't tell him anything. And it was ether his dad being convinced that they were doing drugs in there or something or it was his life.

"Since when did you become a homo, huh?" Mr. Lachance yelled. Tears were streaming down Gordie's face. He wanted to tell him; oh Jesus Christ, he wanted to tell. He wanted to tell someone. Anyone! But…

"No, dad, it's not that!"

"Uh uh? So then what were you doing in there, Gordie!?"

"I really…I really want to tell you, but-" Gordie breathed in and out unsteadily. He had hiccups on his words. It was that kind of ugly crying again. "I don't know what to say, Gordie." Mr. Lachance breathed. His face was red with fury. "I really don't. If you're not a faggot, prove it!"

"I can't prove it!" Gordie yelled. "But we were just making a phone call!"

"Why won't you _tell _me?" Mr. Lachance snarled, inching closer to his son.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I don't understand!? That's what it is!? Well, make me understand, Gordie. Please."

"Dad, I-"

"No." Mr. Lachance shook his head gruffly. "Just go to your room."

"But-"

"Go to your room, goddamn it!" He yelled, pointing up the stairs. "Go upstairs before I lose it completely."

"He's just a kid."

"Yes, well, I'm starting to think it's something more."

"Something more? Yeah, like something more between him and Chambers."

"You don't really think that, do you?"

"What other reasons could there be?"

"Look, Harold; a few days ago, he came home brutally beaten. I mean, he says he fell into a ditch dodging a car! And I couldn't help but notice that the rest of his friends were beat up too-"

"You mean the hooligans he hangs out with? Dope dealers, I'm telling you-"

"_Please _listen to me! His brother passed away a few months ago! We can't just ignore that! We aren't the only people in this family who were affected by this."

"Honey, he _locked _himself in a room alone with another boy-"

"He's just _scared. _He's scared and confused and I think he'd just trying to get everything together. It's not very easy to get over something as big as Denny."

Gordie shook his head. His parents had been arguing for over an hour now. Gordie could hear it through the walls. He couldn't sleep, and he knew he wouldn't. What else was he supposed to do? He was going to die the next day, anyway, or close to it.

Gordie had been mulling his predicament over in his mind for a while now. His dad throughout he was a faggot now. Great. Or a druggie. He knew that the Cobras killed Ray Brower, yet he could do anything about it. He was most definitely going to get hided by them now as well, or maybe even killed. And yet he _still _could do nothing. His brother had died, his dad hated him, his mother just pitied him. His best friend wasn't even allowed in his house.

He could just run away. Chris had said it himself. It now became more obvious that he should, but he knew that wherever they went, there would be 'missing kid' signs everywhere.

But they didn't have to run away _forever, _right? They could just go for a little bit…just to…

That was it! He had got it!

He knew exactly what they were going to have to do. And it couldn't wait another day.

"We run away."

"_What!?_" Teddy exclaimed in shock.

Gordie leaned in closer over the lunch table. His friends did the same, listening intently.

"We can't run away!" Teddy hissed at Gordie.

"Well, I'm down with it." Chris said, smacking his fist on the table. "Who's with me? We start over in a new place, new name, new everything-"

"That's not what I'm saying." Gordie waved Chris away. "We can run away, but just for a little bit. We'll hitch a ride on one of the trains from the station. Nobody'll be there, so we can buy ourselves a one way ticket up a couple of towns and nobody will know. It'll be late, so the Cobras won't know we're gone until the morning. Then, we can ride to the next town and tell the police there! I mean, it'll take a few days, but they'll never find us…"

The other three simply stared at Gordie, their mouths gaping holes in their faces.

"That-" Chris looked at Gordie straight in the eye. He then grinned a grin that speed across his face like sunshine, "That's a plan and a half, man!"

Remembering the fated day in the tree house when Vern had brought them…the news, Gordie and Chris skinned it one last time.

"Yeah, alright!" Teddy yelled enthusiastically. "Dig it."

"I-I don't know, guys…" All eyes shot towards Vern. "I mean, what'll I tell my folks? We could get hided. I can't deal with another hiding. And-and what if they catch us? I don't want to die, guys. Sincerely."

The others glared at him.

"Come on, Vern-o!" Chris slapped him lightly over the shoulder. "You _have _to come!"

"I don't know…" Vern mumbled.

` Teddy rolled his eyes.

"Look, if you don't come, you're going to be all alone when the Cobras find out we're gone." He said, his voice dropping with every word, trying to make the idea spookier and spookier. "Then they'll get you. They'll torture you. _Kill _you, Vern! Then we'll be dead, and so will you! How'd you like that?"

"Alright, alright!" Vern threw his hands in the air in defeat. "I'll go! Jesus Christ…"

"Yes!" Teddy punched the air. Gordie and Chris skinned it with him.

"But when do we leave?" Chris asked. They watched Gordie expectantly.

"Uh…" Gordie thought. The next day was a Friday. That meant that they wouldn't be missing any school if they left that day. "Tomorrow night. We all sneak out and meet by the train station at the other end of town."

They all exchanged glances.

"Alright."

"Okay."

"I'm in."

What the boys were about to do was bigger than anything they had ever tried. It was bigger than Brower, bigger than scaling the fence of Milo Pressman's junkyard. Bigger than going into a test unprepared. Bigger than telling your parents something you didn't want to. Bigger than setting the house on fire. Bigger than talking to a girl (Although maybe not scarier…), and most definitely bigger than themselves. Or anything they had in them. Bigger than the amount of courage and fear that they had built up in themselves. But it looked like both of those amounts were going to grow a whole lot more.


	8. Chapter 8

**How do? Me again. **

**Well, this is sort of an interesting chapter; I have just introduced an OC, which I never really thought I was going to do, buuuuttttt...**

**Well, I have to say, I cannot take all the credit for this OC. Recently, an absolutely brilliant writer (Scripter21) PMed me, giving me an OC to work with if I liked. I cannot be any more grateful, because I had been thinking about putting an OC in, but I wasn't sure. Turns out, this character was perfect for my story. As it is, Scripter21 has also put out a story with the same OC. Please check out this awesome writer! It'll mean a lot. **

**Cheers, **

**-Chris**

**(Yeah, I've decided to sign out of my Author's Notes with a pen name now, but if you guys want me to sign with my real name, I'd be happy to :)**

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><p>"Yes, one ticket to…" Nowhere. One ticket to nowhere.<p>

Uneasily, Chris exchanged his three crisp, green dollars for that one square, stiff piece of cardboard-ish paper that was his ticket deeper and deeper into the predicament he was already in. That was his last bit of money, except for the couple of cents that he had packed into his bag, which he had taken from his father's wallet on the way out. But what else could he do? If he stayed here, he'd die, that's for sure.

Sighing, Chris tightened the light scarf that he had slung around his neck, picking up his army bag from the floor, and exited onto the platform.

"Hey!" The ticket man called. Chris turned. "You're one of those Chambers kids, aren't you?"

"Um…" Chris thought for a minute. "No."

It was colder than Chris had expected it to be at the station. But hey, it was midnight. Without the sun hanging up there in the sky, it had become quite a few degrees cooler.

It was misting, as Chris liked to call it. A little less than a drizzle, it was that kind of rain that felt almost like moist snowflakes. It was light and soft and small, damping the ground and sticking to the tips of your hair. It shorted the atmosphere in a transparent shade of almost-grey, and made everything feel just a little cooler, less warm than before. It gave off that earthy smell of dirt and water. As if you were standing by a rushing river, the spray freckling your face. Misting.

Chris hopped from foot to foot, jumping on and off the wet platform, his shoes slightly damp from the baby rain droplets. Hugging himself closer, he began to click together the brass buttons of his worn jean jacket. The place was deserted. Not a lone soul stood in the Castle Rock Train Station besides him and maybe some rats seeking shelter under the tracks. The only thing to illuminate the platform where Chris stood was the flickering street lamp, which bathed the place in an artificial florescent light.

Ignoring the neon yellow glow-in-the-dark line that signaled the nearing end of the platform, Chris inched towards the edge and leaned out towards the tracks. All was dark. No train in sight.

_Where the fuck are they, where the fuck are they, where the fuck are they? _Chris's mind chanted, shuffling around in a little circle. _I swear to God, if they miss the fucking train…_

"Yeah, one ticket to the next town, please!"

Chris turned around slowly. An out of breath Vern was standing at the ticket booth. His shirt was half-drenched from sweat, a small, beat up brown-leather luggage at his ankles.

The ticket-man and Vern made the exchange, and Chris's stout friend came scuttling onto the platform.

"Hey Chris." He said, coming to stand by him.

"Hey." Chris replied, not looking at him. Silently, Chris pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket. He offered Vern one, and the two smoked in silence, the pungent smoke curling up in little grey trails up towards the black sky.

"You brought any food?" Chris mumbled, billowing smoke out of his lips like a smokestack.

"A couple of apples. Some Pez. Anything I could grab." Vern replied. "You?"

"Didn't have time." Chris said numbly.

"Gordie probably brought some." Vern said easily, knowing that their friend was far more responsible than the lot of them. Chris just smiled, knowing it was relatively true.

Gordie had, in fact, brought the food. He had made eight sandwiches in the dead of night before he came, wrapped in tin foil and folded into a brown paper bag with six crisp dollar bills. Nine quarters lined the bottom of the bag, tinkling in his grey canvas backpack as he walked towards his friends. A filled canteen slapped the side of his thigh in rhythm as he stepped.

Next came Teddy. He had brought no food, and, as it was, his friends ended up paying for his ticket for he didn't bring enough money. And, once again, the four were united, standing side by side, taking a smoke and waiting for the train to come.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this." Teddy muttered. They all looked at him. His expression was nonchalant, as he held his cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, looking up at the sky. Rain had began to splatter across his glasses, the street lamp reflecting on both the liquid and the glass. Teddy had been the absolute last person that any of them would have thought to say such a thing.

"What?" Chris stammered. Teddy didn't meet any of their eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying…." He muttered, shaking the ash off the end of the cigarette. "The last time we did something without thinking, we ended up in some really deep shit. So I'm just thinking…maybe we can stop doing things so rushed, you know?"

"Well." Chris said, weighting out his argument on his tobacco-coated tongue. "We did one stupid thing; that was going to see Brower. So this stupid thing that we're going to do now is going to set things right. Maybe two stupids make it normal…or maybe we just need to keep going on this road of stupid until we make it to smart, you know?" Chris sighed, shaking his head. "All I know is that we won't get ourselves away from the first stupid unless we go through with this stupid."

"Train's coming." Gordie muttered, knowing that if Chris kept arguing with Teddy, Teddy would go all Hulk mode on them. Grateful for the reason to stop talking, or stop listening, the boys gathered their things and peered down the tracks. Nearing from a few hundred feet away were the two telltale yellow orbs that were the train headlights. They bobbed up and down, like a pair of golden eyes, watching, approaching it's prey. As it neared, they could see the smoke, like those of their cigarettes, puffing up from the chimney in little ashen-black clouds, and could hear the loud _chugga-chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga-chugga _of the wheels working against the tracks. Sparks flew as the fast-moving train slowed near the station. A gust of warm air blew up from below, tussling the boy's hair and their clothing.

The train stopped right in front of them, and the doors opened. The red tin exterior gleamed in the wetness of the rain. They could see through the dusty, slightly open window that the car was almost deserted. However, the inside looked warm and inviting, with a buttery glow from the overhanging lights spreading across their faces.

Gordie, Chris, Teddy and Vern looked at each other, silently saying that they had to do this. It was the only way to end it. The only way to burry the first stupid.

The stepped onto the train in single file. As they had presumed, the place was nearly deserted. The car was warm, the floor carpeted with a dirty shag rug that ran along the length of the isle. Lining ether wall were sets of booths for the passengers to sit on, a table with cup holders and such. There was a no-smoking and no loud music sign on the wall, next to which was the emergency call box. The doors to the next car stood closed on ether end of their compartment. Without any words, they sat themselves down at one of the booths, Gordie closest to the wall, facing Chris, and Teddy and Vern in the isle spot. They waited, their shaking hands folded on the table in front of them. Within a few moments, the doors closed, and the train lurched forwards.

Gordie looked around. The place smelled strange, a sickly-sweet scent of carpet freshener and something stale. Outside the window, Castle Rock began to zoom by. A few booths down sat an old woman sat without company, her head in a newspaper.

They hadn't seen her before, for she had been slumped low in her seat, but sitting alone a few booths up on the opposite side of the isle was a girl about their age, maybe a few significant amounts of months younger or older. She had obviously seen the boys, but acted like she didn't. She had fair skin, the color of milk, or maybe a little tanner, long, slick dark hair pulled into two loose ponytails that reached a little ways down the top section of her chest. He wore a white shirt, and a pair of boy's jeans, obviously not her's, which she had hitched up over the shirt with a makeshift belt of rope. She was fairly pretty, but in a strange, boyish fashion. She was no Bonnie Swan beauty queen from up on the View, but she _was _something. Her eyes were large and a dark chocolate brown, dark eyelashes flattering their round shape. Her skin like the porcelain of an old doll, her eyebrows thin and the defined color of her light brown hair. She had an exaggeratedly small ski-slope nose, propped at the slightly pointed end of which was the bridge of a pair of black, wire-framed reading glasses. Held in one slender hand was a thick, beat-up book, and it seemed like she was nearing the end of it.

Even though all of the boys saw her, nobody said anything about her.

"Well…" Gordie muttered. "We're off."

"When do we get there?" Teddy asked in a hushed voice.

"Sometime tomorrow, maybe. We're going a little past Harlow. The next town after that. That's the next stop, I think." Gordie replied, reaching into his backpack for a comic of some sort. He had packed eight, maybe nine, of them, neatly folded in next to the paper bag full of food. "What did you tell your parents?" Vern asked softly. He seemed nervous; But hell, they all were.

"Told them the truth." Chris replied, acting like he was going to put a cigarette to his lips before he realized that there wasn't one between his fingers anymore. He scowled as the boys snickered. "Left them a note on the kitchen counter. You guys?"

The others nodded. They had done the same.

The girl was watching them. Only Gordie saw her, because Vern and Chris weren't facing her, and Teddy was too easily distracted to care. She was facing him, so he got a clear view. She watched like she hadn't a care in a world, as if in a trance, and as Gordie watched her with expectancy in his face, she seemed to shake herself out of it and hastily down at her book. Her fair skin was immediately splattered with a dark shade of red just below the shadow of her cheekbone.

"Hey." Gordie muttered through his teeth. "We have an eavesdropper."

"Heh?" Teddy swivel around, nearly leaping up in his chair. Chris rolled his eyes and motioned for him to sit down. He did.

"Just…be subtle." Gordie said, then nodded with his chin towards the girl. She wasn't looking at the time, thank God.

All three boys immediately turned full around in their seats. Teddy leaned into the isle, and so did Vern. Chris turned around and looked over the top of the seat. She looked up at them, but then looked quickly back down.

"So much for subtlety." Gordie muttered.

"That's her?" Chris hissed. There was something in his eyes; Something that kind of looked shockingly like determination. "She was eavesdropping?"

"Well, yeah, until you scared her off." Gordie joked. Chris glowered playfully at him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Teddy protested. "You can't go getting with this girl! You're supposed to be making Bonnie Swan an official Chambers some day!"

Gordie let out a snort.

"Hey, what are you laughing at, _Lachance!_" Chris snapped, half-grinning. "I'd like to see you get a girl!"

"Like you ever have." Gordie countered, flashing a smile.

"Let's see, then." Chris leaned back smugly. "I've had plenty of gals in my day." He put his hands behind his head.

"Ha!" Gordie scoffed. "The only girl who's ever kissed you is your mommy when she puts you to bed!"

Teddy cracked up at this, cackling his hyena cackle that could shatter glass.

"Oh, he told you, Chambers, he told you!" Teddy yelled, plastically falling to the floor in laughter. The rest stared at him, blank-faced.

"Teddy." Gordie said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's not that funny."

Teddy scowled at him.

"Fine. Alright." He sat back down, his back straight up against the back of the chair, his hands folded on his lap. His smile was gone. In the background, the girl was suppressing a laugh.

Gordie watched her, somehow interested in her. He was there alone, no parents. Well, to be frank, they were also alone without supervision. But they were doing that only under the special conditions.

Suddenly, so suddenly, it almost made Gordie jump, the girl spun around, looking over the top of her seat at the door to the other car. Snapping off her glasses, she looked then around the place, and spied the boys. She was standing then, just staring at them. Her rounded lips were slightly parted in the middle, and her far-set, large eyes were fearful. Gordie stared at her, and she stared at him. Her book hung loosely from her fingertips, her glasses from the other. She was slender, tall, almost. Maybe even tallier than Gordie, but no taller than Teddy, that was for sure. Still, she stared.

Gordie elbowed Teddy in the ribs, and nodded towards her. He cocked his head, then looked at Gordie with his light blue eyes.

"What's she want?" Teddy asked, but she was already making her way down the isle. Her feet, on which were a pair of old-looking, brown leather boots, pumped against the carpet. She stopped when she reached the boy's booth.

All was silent. The boys stared up at her in awe, not saying a word. She looked scared, jumpy; Nervous, almost. Her fingers involuntarily fitted with her glasses.

Up close, they could see her just a little bit clearer. The sleeves of the white shirt she was wearing came up just below her elbows, and was fitted nicely to her frame. She held no luggage, no bags or anything; just that book and her glasses.

"How can we help you, milady?" Chris said cheekily, leaning forwards on the table.

The girl pursed her lips a little, seemingly caught off guard.

"I-"

"What's your name?" Chris asked her, narrowing his eyes a little. He was charming her, putting her under his spell…

Nobody here knew his last name.

"Look, this is going to sound…_really _wieird, but…" The girl looked around nervously doing a little hop from one foot to the other. "Could I…maybe…possibly…hide under your table?"

"Wha-"

"Tickets!" The door to the other car banged open to revile none other than a stout man in a green getup and a fez perched precariously on the edge of his blonde head. The man looked young, maybe in his twenties or thirties, and he was most definitely the ticket collector. "Tickets! Tickets please!"

And with that, the girl disappeared. Judging by the movement under their feet, she had swung herself under the boy's table and was hiding out there.

The others exchanged glances, but said nothing. Gordie could feel her knee pressing up against his calf.

"Tickets!" The man called, approaching their booth with an overly enthusiastic ring in his voice. Although seemingly optimistic, the man also seemed quite intimidating, all shiny brass buttons and white teeth and an official-looking, shallow oval name tag that read _James Anderson. _His curly blonde hair poked out from under the silly green fez, blue eyes gleaming, as he held his hand out for the boys to give their tickets.

"Tickets? Tickets? Tickets? Tickets?" He asked to each of them. "Tickets, men?" He smiled a laughing smile, which, in all honestly, kind of freaked the boys out. Nonetheless, they still handed in their crisp tickets. The man ripped them along the dotted line, giving them back the feeble end of printed cardboard.

"Good day to you!" The man said. His voice was coated with an thick English accent; why an English man would be working in Castle Rock, they didn't know. All they knew is that he was leaving their car and was moving on to the next one, and that the girl-whoever she was, the girl currently sitting-er, hiding under their table had not handed in a ticket.

"Is he gone?" Her voice asked feebly after a few minutes.

"Yea." Gordie replied. From under the table, the girl popped up. She looked much more relaxed, a little smile painted across her face.

"Thanks, guys." She said. The gratitude was genuine. They could see it in her eyes, the way that they looked almost relieved. "I owe you one." The boys just stared.

"I'm Dana Parker." Her voice was hopeful, and her words were almost a question, trying to strike some kind of conversation.

When nobody said anything, struck with awe, Gordie rolled his eyes and introduced the group.

"Well, I'm Gordie Lachance, that's Chris Chambers, Teddy Duchamp and Vern Tessio." He pointed to each in turn.

"Nice names." She said with a laugh. Her laugh was sweet and light, almost the same tinkle as an icicle falling from the roof and shattering on the pavement in winter.

Chris smirked silently. Good. No comments.

"Well." Dana sat down at the booth across from them, leaning against the wall of the car and stretching her legs along the length of the seat. "Thanks again, Gordie, Chris, Teddy and Vern. You saved my life." She laughed again, opened the book. She then began to produce a small stack of playing cards, which had been leafed into the pages. She shuffled them fast, with a hand almost as fast as Gordie's. Shaking their heads, the boys looked away from the interesting girl.

By the time it was well past midnight, the boys had already settled in very well in their booth. Gordie was asleep, facing sort of sideways, his head leaning against the cabin wall. Chris was also tuckered out, his feet propped up on the table. Teddy had his head down on the table, resting in his folded arms, the playing cards from the unfinished card game between Vern and him scattered uselessly around him. Vern's head was lolled back, his mouth half open, also asleep.

Dana was still awake, though. She was still sitting there, with her legs sprawled out in front of her, crossed over each other, her cards discarded, defeatedly displayed face up on her lap.

She was watching the boys, watching them with her endless brown eyes. They looked so funny, sitting there, just a couple of boys, drool making it's way down from the corner of their open mouths. Almost funny.

Just a couple of boys, all alone. Why were they all alone? Dana knew why _she _was all alone, but them? They were obviously not brothers, but by the way they acted around each other, they were friends. Friends with a very distinct, pin-point-able set of personalities. Gordie seemed to be the smart one, the responsible one. He had brought the food, the water, the playing cards. He was also polite, and better dressed than the rest of his friends, which hinted to Dana that he had come from a better family than the rest. Teddy seemed to be the crazy one, the wild one. He was always breaking out into song, yelling at Vern in hysteria when they played cards, and laughing that laugh of his that could probably bust your eardrums if he did it right in your ear…And that ear of his. It was all burnt and funny, melted, almost. It made Dana shiver. He couldn't have been born with it-no, that was too gory, too scorched to be born with. The rest of him was fine, so Dana could only wonder…

But he liked to pick fights, which was another thing. He seemed to enjoy it, getting a good kick out of a good argument with any of the boys.

Then there was Vern. Vern was obviously the timid one, but he had fun with the gang, obviously. He seemed kind of nervous all the time, protesting when Gordie brought out a scary comic that could possibly 'Give him nightmares.'

And lastly was Chris. Chris was the hardest to figure out. He seemed rather…normal, to be frank. In a hushed, velvety voice, the charming boy conversed with Gordie the most. They seemed so…into whatever they were saying. Dana desperately wanted to know what they were talking about; it seemed so private, so ominous, almost…Dana just had to know.

This lead her slowly, slowly back to why they were there, and why _she _was there, all alone. She lived a few towns to the right of Castle Rock, living in a nice little town. Her mother was a hard working woman, bringing home most if not all of the family's money. She worked at a local news paper, and wrote articles for it. Her father, on the other hand…he was a drunk, always driving off to clubs and coming home late and completely wasted. Dana never really saw him very much, nor did she think she loved him. He was crude and abusive and distant; so she had no reason to. He was never really a father to her, anyway.

So that was why she wasn't at home now. Her mother would be alright, she thought, and she had no siblings to think about. Nobody would miss her, really…

So she'd left. She never planned on going back, ether. She felt no remorse for leaving, even if it would be hard, trying to live where she was going. Dana was headed to the city, the closest one she could find. She had been on the road for two days now, and she was due at her destination two days from then. That was the next stop; the city. It was both the train's and hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, another chapter. To be honest, I don't have anything to say in this author's note other than I managed to get some wifi in a ski lodge and I'm on about 7% battery life, soooo here goes nothing; Chapter 9**

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><p>Gordie awoke to sun in his eyes and the fell of someone poking him. He groaned, trying to flip himself over like he would if he was in bed, but he wasn't. He knew that. He remembered, clear as hell, the night before, and knew exactly where he was. He was on the train. Going a few towns over. Going to rat out Ace and Eyeball and Billy and Charlie and all the rest of those bozos because of what they did to that kid.<p>

"Gooooorrrrdddiiiieeeee…" A voice droned. Gordie slapped away the hand, but he was already awake, and he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep at this point, anyway.

"I'm up, goddamn!" He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around. Teddy was watching him, and had obviously been the one who was poking him. "What the fuck do you want?"

"We're almost there." Teddy told him. Gordie observed the booth, and saw that Chris and Vern were also awake, looking bored, hungry and disheveled. Dana's big eyes were also open, and she was sitting cross-legged at her seat, staring at the cleared tabletop. Her glasses sat next to her, placed neatly on top of her book. "Chris said it'll be about half an hour now."

"So why'd you wake me up?" Gordie squinted at Teddy in the bright morning light.

"We want food." Chris replied for him. "And it's in your bag."

"You could have just got it without me." Gordie mumbled.

"That's what I suggested!" Teddy exclaimed, pointing at Chris. "But _Chambers _over here said it would be invasion of privacy."

"Well, I'm _sorry _if I didn't want to go looking through his shit without permission!" Chris huffed.

"Just shut up, guys." Gordie muttered, not in the mood. Teddy let out an unnecessarily long, indignant sigh, but said nothing more. "I'll get you your fucking sandwiches."

"Why'd you bring _sandwiches, _Gordie?" Vern asked absently. "Couldn't you have brought something like…bread and butter? Something for breakfast, you know?"

"Yeah." Gordie replied with a shrug, not wanting to get into anything with Vern. What he really wanted to tell him was that he brought fucking _candy, _fucking _Pez, _so he should just fuck off because at least Gordie had been responsible enough to bring _something _for them to eat.

Gordie handed out the neat little packaged sandwiches, and the boys unwrapped them in silence.

"Jesus, Gordie!" Teddy exclaimed after taking a bite. "These are fucking horrible!"

Gordie laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry I wasn't no Betty Crocker at eleven o'clock at night with all the lights off, while I'm trying not to wake my old man, kay?" Gordie snapped, trying to sound as playful as possible.

Teddy scowled.

"Hey, Ted, at least it's _food._" Chris told him, taking a bite himself. He made a face. "But I have to say, Betty; not your best work."

Gordie laughed.

"Shut up!" He said. "You know I can't cook for shit."

"You guys want some Pez?" Vern offered, holding out the dispenser, which was supposed to be Micky Mouse or someone, but Vern had been in possession of this one for years now, so it looked barely like anything anymore. They shrugged and took the square candy. "It's cherry."

"Thanks, Vern-o." Gordie said as he popped the little pink thing in his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment, it's sweet, artificial flavor melting across his taste buds.

Even though Gordie's bland, mayo and turkey sandwich _did _taste like shit, the boys were hungry, so they ate. They weren't really _that _bad, for something cooked up in the dead of night a few moments before sneaking out the back door of the house.

"Where do you think the station'll be?" Vern asked, leaning in towards the center of the table. The others followed suit.

"Don't know. Guess we'll have to find out." Gordie muttered. "Might have to go to a hotel or something. What'd you guys think?"

Teddy, Vern and Chris exchanged glances.

"Come on, we're going to be real tired when we get there. We'll need a place to sleep." Gordie tried. "Let's just see how much money we have."

With reluctance, the boys dumped their money on the table. $6.75 from Gordie, 50 cents from Chris (He'd spent most of his buying his ticket), $1.05 from Teddy, and 20 cents from Vern, who countered that he _still _hadn't found his pennies yet.

"Hey, at least it's a step up from last time." Gordie said with a shrug. "Look's like we've got…about $8.50."

"Don't think we can get a hotel with that…" Vern muttered, looking crestfallen.

"Well, no shit, mister 20 cents!" Teddy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"Hey, I brought only seven last time, so you'd better be greatful!"

"Oh my gosh, this is pitiful."

The boys turned. Dana was watching them, looking amused.

"Whaddryoutalkinbout?" Vern demanded in a mumble.

"You guys are being ridiculous." She laughed. "I mean, look at you! You're turning on each other like a pack of wolves." "Look, princess." Chris said with a growl in his voice. "Thanks for the help, but we don't need a therapist."

"Sure you don't." She raised an eyebrow. Chris scowled. Dana leaned forwards, contemplating them.

"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" She asked them. "All of you. You look pretty beat up, is all. And by the looks of it, you're running away from something."

"Well, you're quite the psychic." Chris retorted, and even though he wasn't aware, he was tracing his finger around the fresh bruise that sat like a blotchy black ink stain on his forearm. Dana smirked. "But we aren't running away from anything. We're running _to _something."

"Oh? Haven't heard that one before." She said icily. She then looked up at the ceiling, tapping her chin mockingly as if remembering something. "Although, I do seem to recall you saying something about a station. You running to tattle, are you?"

Chris went red, and didn't speak.

"Actually, we are." Gordie answered. The others looked at him with a face that told him to shut the fuck up before someone heard.

"Oh really?" Dana said, raising an eyebrow. "Someone beat you up real bad and mommy and daddy won't listen?"

"It's none of your business, to be frank." Gordie informed her, even though she already knew she was meddling in things she shouldn't be.

"Then I'll make it my business." Dana said, catching them off guard. She stood, walked across the isle, and leaned her hands on their table. "How's about I let you stay with me for the night. Then it would _have _to be my business."

Gordie's brown eyebrows furrowed.

"Why do care about us?" Gordie asked.

"Just spotted a couple kids my age in the same sort of predicament. Run aways…or running _towards, _in your case. Saw you guys don't have any money, so I decided I'd help you out." She shrugged.

Gordie looked a the others. They shrugged in a way that said _why not?_

"Alright." Chris answered for the rest. "Fine. So long as you buy us a pack."

"A pack?" Dana cocked her head slightly to the left.

"Cigarettes." Teddy translated.

"You guys smoke?" She looked at them funny.

Chris shrugged, producing a pack from his pocket and sending it in a lobbing toss towards Dana. She caught it in one hand without even looking. "You?"

"Ugh, no." Dana shook her head in disgust. "Never met kids your age who smoke. How old are you guys, anyway?"

"Thirteen." Chris lied.

"Me too." She said, tossing the pack to Chris, who caught it easily in his dominant hand.

Dana began to make her way to her seat. When she did, she turned to face them.

"You'd better quit that before it kills you, you know." She said, nodding to the pack, which sat flopped open on the table. "Could give you lung cancer."

The boys snorted a kind of laughter.

"What can I say?" Chris said cockily. "Old habits die hard."

Dana rolled her eyes.

"Well." She said. "None of that shit where I'm taking you guys, okay? Don't want to smell."

They rolled their eyes, looking desiccated.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Sure.

"Whatever."

"Guys, did you see that!?"

Dana and the boys looked up. Teddy was pointing enthusiastically out the window.

"Jesus, Teddy, what?" Gordie glared at him for yelling.

"Look! I saw a sign! Welcome to Harlow or something! Right there!" He waved his arms excitedly in the direction of where the sign might have been.

"That's fucking great." Dana muttered, going back to her book after seeing that it wasn't a big deal after all. "Now can you please be quiet for once?"

Teddy shot her a glare.

"Well." Gordie said with a sigh. They began to pack up their things. "This is our stop." He waited for Teddy to make is way out of the booth, then followed. They stood by the door, their bags in hand.

"What are you bozos talking about?" Dana asked, sitting up a little straighter and looking at them with this peculiar, confused look on her face.

"This is our stop." Chris replied. "We're getting off in a few minutes."

Dana just laughed.

"No you're not." She said simply, as if it was obvious why.

"Why not?" Chris demanded, whipping around.

"Because this train doesn't stop in Harlow." Dana said, giving him a look.

"Of course it does! Stop giving me shit. We're getting off." Chris shook his head, peering out of the window. They could see Harlow whizzing by, the train station not yet in sight.

"You can try all you like." Dana said, folding her arms. "This train _does not _stop in this town."

Chris shook his head again.

"You're full of bullshit."

"Excuse me!" Dana huffed. "I'm just trying to help."

"Fuck your help! We know what we're doing."

"Did you even _check _the train schedule? Or did you just buy the ticket blindly?"

The boys looked down at their feet.

"You guys have never been anywhere, have you?" Dana said smugly.

"Course we've been places! Lots of places!" Teddy protested. "My old man stormed the beach in Normandy." He added proudly.

"Ohhh, well, I'm sure he did." Dana said with sarcastic sweetness. "But did you?"

Teddy set his jaw and sent her a pisser of a glare. Vern laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, knowing what would happen if he blew up.

"You're just some small town boys with a thirst for adventure, aren't you?" Dana said smugly. "We _were._" Gordie said from the back of his throat. "But maybe it was too much. Now we're setting things right."

Dana looked at him in a different way. Something like a mixture of interest, question and mockery.

"You don't know anything about the outside world, do you?" She asked.

"Enough to know that you're really bullshitting us right now." Gordie growled.

"Oh really? Here comes the station." Dana gestured towards the window. In the distance, the train station was getting closer and closer. "Let's see who knows more."

Gordie folded his arms and watched the window expectantly. However, something nagged at him. What would they do if she was right? What would they do if the train didn't stop in Harlow?

But there was no time for 'what-ifs'. The train station was approaching, faster and faster. They could see the platform, slightly jutted out over the tracks. And as it became less and less of just a spot in the distance, the boy's heats began to sink.

Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty and then twenty. They could see it on each other's faces that they were growing nervous. Fifteen feet. The train showed no signs of stopping. Ten feet, and Gordie's clammy hands went numb. The train kept speeding. Five. Four. Three. Two.

And then it past them. The platform went whizzing by, and with it, so did Harlow.

Dana just looked pleased, smug, even, watching the boys' expressions of question and disbelief melt into pure anger.

"We got on the fucking _express train!_" Teddy exclaimed, putting his hand on his forehead. "I can't fucking believe it!"

"How could we be so stupid?" Gordie thought out loud, punching the air in frustration.

Teddy turned to him.

"Oh, I don't know." He said sarcastically, sending bullets at Gordie. "You're the one who came up with the idea!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know the train schedule!?" Gordie yelled.

"It was your responsibility! None of us know shit about this!" Teddy yelled back.

"Huh, Mr. 'Stormed the Beach in Normandy'!"

If looks could kill, Gordie would have dropped dead.

"You came up with this, Lachance." Teddy growled. "This was your idea! I was fucking fine with letting Ace and Eyeball getting away with murder, but you had to go on and suggest that we run away!"

"What else were we supposed to do!?" Gordie asked. "Let them push us around and blackmail us when _we _are the ones who should be blackmailing _them_!? They _killed _Ray Brower, Teddy! The kid is dead! Departed! Expired! Six feet under! Pushing up daises! _Zero Percent! _He's gone, Teddy! Don't you think he'd want it this way?"

"This is isn't an adventure anymore!" Teddy yelled louder and louder. "This is _bad! _Really, really bad! This isn't _fun _anymore! _Do you think this is fun!?_" Teddy was losing it now, screaming. Here came hulk mode… "Stupid is stupid is stupid! Stupid is not fun! Stupid isn't an adventure! Not everything is like one of your gay little _fairytales, _Lachance-!"

"Hey, hey hey! Oh, Jesus Christ, will you two just shut the _fuck up!_" Chris exclaimed, stepping between the two of them. "Teddy! What the hell has gotten into you, man!?"

"It's the goucher." Vern breathed after a long pause in which Teddy and Gordie shot death stares at each other.

"What?" Gordie looked at him like he was insane.

"The goucher. It's turning us against each other. I'm telling you. The fucking goucher. This is real shit, man. Baaaad luck, real bad. This is-"

"Just shut up, Vern." Chris told him in a low voice. It sounded so ominous, so dark and deep that it shut them all up. Chris was good at that; grabbing your attention in such a way that it could silence a room. "Look. It's no use in arguing about shit that already happened. We can't go back in time. There's no use in punishing Gordie. To be honest, none of us payed shit to where we were going. Gordie came up with the idea while the rest of us were going to sit on our asses and let them get away with this. Gordie brought the food, while the rest of us ether brought insufficient candy or just brought _nothing._" None of them knew when or why Chris had learned the word 'insufficient', but it worked. "Gordie's the brains of this operation. We all know that now. If it wasn't for Gordie, we'd all ether be dead or starving or we wouldn't even be here at all. So I suggest we all stop taken Gordie's fucking brain for granted and we can just make the best of it." Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair, arranging his argument out in his head. "The police station in Harlow isn't the only one in the world. I'm sure there's one where we're going. Murder is a national thing, right? So we can go anywhere in the state or whatever and it will still count. Alright?" Chris breathed in and out, trying to steady himself. "Okay. Cool. So we can just…yeah." "What _is _your story?" Dana mused. The boys turned. The girl had been watching them intently, holding onto every word.

"What do you mean?" Gordie said in a small voice.

"Small town boys traveling to Harlow alone with talk of murder…" Dana said in a soft voice that was almost sarcastic. "I just wonder about your story. It seems long and winding and… almost gay fairy tail worthy." She gave Teddy a sneering wink.

Teddy gave her one of his dead-cold stares, but kept his mouth shut.

"And I heard you talk about Ray Brower being killed." She continued cautiously. "And I've heard about Brower; kid was hit by a train a few weeks ago. What's your relation to him?"

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Gordie demanded, advancing on her. He was dangerously close to the slick, conniving girl. He leaned over her as she sat facing him at her booth. "You ask all these questions, but you don't tell us anything. What's _your _story?"

But Dana just stared at him with deep, expressionless eyes. She was cold. So cold.

"You too many questions, Gordon." She said. "I thought you were the smart one. Silly. Looks to me like you and your Teddy Bear Club friends are in a tough situation. Families back home, you know? But you don't want to go back. None of you do. You want to rat out this Ace kid for, you say, killing Ray Brower. Hah! What a story. If your parents find out where you are, you'll have to go home without getting it out there. And they _will_ find out, unless you have a place to hide. That's why you need me. So I suggest you just let me ask my questions, because I'm your only hope." Dana laughed to herself when she saw their faces. "Face it, boys; I have you all figured out."

Gordie eased himself up to standing position, and followed his friends back to their booth.

"You really are a psycho, aren't you?" Chris spat as he sat down.

"Keep a secret?" She said in a mocking tone, putting a finger to her lips. Chris shook his head, disgusted at her attitude and unempathetic personally.


	10. Chapter 10

**Oi again! Hasn't been too long, has it? Oh well, I'm here now. I think I'm going to try to keep up a schedule, but I just got orf from break, and school has started again, so I might not be writing as much as I should. SO so sorry! Well, at least I have chapter 10 for you, and I'm so sorry it ends on a cliffhanger...muahaha **

**All the dogs bollocks,**

**-Tomas **

**(Yes, even though none of thou asked, I have decided to sign out with my real name! Yes I am a male human specimen! Comes as a shock, doesn't it. Most chaps don't really write Stand By Me fanfiction, but hey...)**

Gordie, Chris, Teddy, Vern and Dana stood in the grizzly hot, humid air. Their feet were planted dead onto the platform, watching the train whizz by, the wind from it billowing upwards and blowing at their hair, caressing their half-emotionless faces.

And then it was past. The train was gone.

The sounds of the station began to taper into their reality. People walking around, pushing past them, voices shouting across the platform, sounds forcing themselves into their tired ears.

The boys, who had been through so much, exchanged glances now. Worried glances. Because they knew that the moment they left the station, to go to wherever they were going, they would be stepping deeper and deeper into their terrible, terrible situation.

With that, they turned and faced the station. The traffic was overwhelming; people rushing around, running to catch trains, people holding up signs with the names of people they were supposed to be picking up. This train station was much bigger than the one in Harlow, and far, far bigger than the deserted little Castle Rock platform. Children ran past, names were called. Some people sat on benches, waiting for their train. And the four small-town boys and the one mysterious girl stood in a place they had never ever been, just watching it all.

So they set out. Pushing their way through the crowd, they made it out of the station and into the street. It was slightly cooler there, but not very much, considering that it was about 80-something digress out then. It had been an extremely hot summer.

"Well." Chris said, looking out onto the street. They were standing on the grey pavement, apartment buildings lining the edge of it. The black asphalt street was filled with cars. "Where to now?"

"Follow me." Dana said, leading them down the street at a quick pace. They did as they were told.

"Where are we going?" Gordie asked, catching up to her.

"A friend's house." Dana replied without looking at him.

"Why are we going there?" He asked.

"You said you guys needed a place to stay, right?" She said. "So I'm taking you to a friend of mine's house."

"You've got a friend out here?" Gordie asked, suspicious.

"Yeah." She shrugged. "This is where most runaways from my town go, anyway. I was bound to have someone out here."

"Who is this friend in relation to you?" Gordie pressed.

"Jesus, he's just a friend!" Dana exclaimed, glaring. "He was a family friend, but he ran away from home to come live here! That's it!"

"I'm just asking…" Gordie muttered. "Does he know you're coming?"

Dana pulled a face.

"Not _exactly…_" She admitted. Gordie groaned. "But I'm sure he'll be happy to have me. I already hinted in my letters that I would be visiting."

"How old's he?" Chris butt in, catching up to the two.

"Why do you care!?" Dana cried, exasperated. "He's just a friend!"

"Well, I care because if he's our age, his idea of shelter is probably living in a cardboard box in an alleyway." Chris reasoned. "So I'm just wondering, is he old enough to own a house?"

"Not technically…" Dana said. "I mean, he's 17, but he says he's 19. Fake ID. He rents an apartment around here."

"Sounds sketchy…" Gordie said.

"It's not sketchy! I know him!" Dana insisted. "Jesus Christ, you guys don't know anything."

The boys scowled, but kept on walking.

"He's almost my brother." Dana said, half to herself. "I've known him since I was a baby."

"That's great." Teddy muttered. "But it still doesn't justify that he's an illegal renter."

"He's not illegal!" Dana snapped, turning to him. "He did what he had to do!"

"It _is _illegal!" Teddy told her, rolling his eyes. "He's a _minor!You're _the one who doesn't know anything! Or maybe you're just blinded because you have a crush on him."

"I don't-Urgh! Why am I even helping you guys!?I don't have a crush on him! I just said, Scotty like a brother to me!"

"Oh, Scotty, aye?" Teddy smirked. "You call him Scotty?"

"Yes, as does everybody since he was five!" Dana countered. "He's a family friend, and he lives here, and he just happens to be your only hope at shelter, and so am I, so if you'd like to keep your current boarding situation the way it is, I suggest you shut up and keep walking!"

Teddy, for once, shut his mouth.

"And may I mention you guys are wanted right now?" Dana said in a loud mutter.

"What?" Gordie asked, shaking his head

"You're _wanted._" She said again.

"What? By who?"

"By your parents, I'm guessing." Dana said, as she motioned to the wooden stand of the nearest lamppost.

And stapled there was a sign. It was a small, normal-sized piece of white, laminated paper. On it read the words;

**_MISSING_**

_ (since Friday, September 13th) _

**_CHRISTOPHER ('CHRIS') CHAMBERS (12 yrs)_**

_H: aprox. 5' 1"_

_Wgh: aprox. 120 lbs_

_Hair color: Blond_

_Eye color: Blue_

_Last seen wearing: White tee shirt, jean jacket, jeans, sneakers, US army shoulder bag_

_Specific characteristics: None_

**_THEODORE ('TEDDY') DUCHAMP (12 yrs)_**

_H: aprox. 5' 2"_

_Wgh: aprox.125 lbs_

_Hair color: Blond_

_Eye color: Brown_

_Last seen wearing: Blue tee shirt, jeans, brown boots, small backpack_

_Specific characteristics: Glasses, deformed ear _

**_GORDON ('GORDIE') LACHANCE (12 yrs)_**

_H: aprox. 5'_

_Wgh: aprox. 110 lbs_

_Hair color: Light brown_

_Eye color: Brown_

_Last seen wearing: Red tee shirt, jeans, sneakers, backpack, canteen_

_Specific characteristics: None_

**_VERN TESSIO (12 yrs)_**

_H: aprox. 4" 10'_

_Wgh: aprox.130 lbs_

_Hair color: Brown_

_Eye color: Blue_

_Last seen wearing: Black shirt, beige kakis, low-top sneakers, small leather luggage_

_Specific characteristics: None_

**_Last seen: Castle Rock Train Station_**

_The boys bought a ticket out of their hometown to the next stop on the express train leaving from the Castle Rock station_

_If you have any information about the whereabouts of these four boys, please call any of the numbers below, or contact your local police station _

**_REWARD GIVEN FOR ANY INFORMATION, NO QUESTIONS ASKED!_**

Beneath were four large, black and white pictures, one of each boy, and each of their parent's phone numbers.

The boys gulped in unison, before Chris reached over and tore the sign down.

"Fuck this." He muttered, folding the laminated paper gruffly and shoving it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "Just take us to your friend and get us out of the open."

The boys had, in all honesty, forgotten about their parents almost completely. They had each left a note before they left their houses, which went more or less along the lines of "_Hey mom and dad. My friends and I decided to go to the next town because the Cobras gang murdered Ray Brower and we can't tell anyone in this town or they'll kill us too. Anyways, love you and try not to worry because we'll be back soon!_" However, the boys hadn't really expected their parents to actually go out and report their missing kid. Chris had expected his dad to be too drunk to even be able to read the paper, Teddy had expected his dad to just throw it away and not care, Gordie had expected his mother to be worried and his father to just brush it away, saying that they were just doing boy stuff and they'd be back as soon as they got hungry, and Vern had expected his parents to worry and fret until he came home, trusting that he _would _return. But they never expected them to actually go all wacko like this. Secretly, the boys all wondered who's parent had reported them, unless they had all gotten together and discussed the problem, which was highly, highly unlikely. Secretly, Chris, Vern and Teddy suspected Gordie's parents, because they were the most…'normal' of the adults. But they said nothing about it.

"You seriously need to re-think your tactics." Dana told them.

"Why?" Chris asked suspiciously. "We just want to get out of the open. Why is that bad?"

Dana just laughed.

"Chris, they have you described down to the luggage type on these poster! These things are on every block!" She said. "Just…wait here."

"But…" But she was gone already, and the boys just stood and watched her sprint down the street and around the corner.

"Don't forget those cigarettes you promised!" Chris shouted in a last feeble hope. He didn't think she heard him.

"Geez.." Vern muttered, coming to sit down on the pavement with his back against the outer wall the apartment building.

"Tell me about it." Chris said back, coming to sit by Vern. The rest did the same. Carefully, Chris reached into his pocket and took out the missing sign again. The four stared at it for little bit.

"What is this shit, anyway?" Teddy thought out loud. "Who even wrote this? My ear isn't deformed! It's fuckin' burnt! Who even wrote this? My old man when he was

bombed?"

They all looked at him, then laughed

"_What?_" Teddy asked, giving them his look that he usually did when he said something involuntarily funny. That look that said '_Oh Lord, what is it with these retards now?' _"What's so funny?! I'm fucking serious!"

They just shook their heads, pushing away the laughter.

They stared at the poster some more.

"Where did they get these pictures?" Chris asked, smacking the poster in the general region of his smiling black and white picture. "I don't remember ever taking this picture…"

"Nah, I remember it." Gordie said. "It was at the county fair last year. I took that picture."

"You did?" Chris's eyebrows furrowed, trying to remember the day. "Well, it's a pretty shitty picture, if you ask me."

Teddy cackled.

Taking little offense, Gordie punched Chris on the shoulder.

The boys waited in silence for a while.

"What do you think of that Dana chick, huh?" Vern asked, drawing little invisible squiggled with his finger on the pavement. "Pretty damn annoying, huh?"

"Psh. Yeah." Teddy scoffed in agreement. "Alight."

"She just doesn't have to be such a bitch all the time, am I right?" Chris muttered, pulling out a beat up packet of cigarettes an offering them to the boys. They each took one, biting it between their teeth as Chris passed around a lit match. The pack of cigarettes was now empty, and Chris began to rip it apart idly.

The boys sat, taking long, drawn-out drags from them, hacking and coughing a little every few breaths. No matter how much they tried to play it up like they were professionals, the boys were relatively new to the habit, and, being that they were only twelve, the black smoke was hard on their lungs.

"She said she'd buy us a pack." Chris muttered, throwing the remains of the packaging into the street like confetti.

"She'd better." Vern said.

"Yeah."

"Did you see all the signs, though? Someone must really be looking for them."

The boys all turned their faces down the street towards the voice that had just pierced their ears. Two girls, maybe of about fifteen or so, came moseying down the street, their skirts billowing in the light summer breeze.

"I know! Just too God awful." One said. They hadn't yet spotted them, but the boys they were talking about were sitting right down the street. "At their age. Twelve, only!"

"And from Castle Rock, too." The other replied, shaking her head, her blonde curls shifting from side to side. "Such a small town. No wonder they wanted to get away. Cute little things…"

"Yeah."

They sighed in unison.

Chris, Gordie, Vern and Teddy exchanged panicky looks, watching the girls walk up the street. They hadn't yet seen them.

"What the fucking hell are we going to do?" Teddy wailed under his breath.

"Just keep your heads down." Chris commanded, shoving the back of Teddy's neck downwards. "Too late to run now."

"But Chris-"

"Just do it!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Hullo again!**  
><strong>So sorry that I haven't posted in a while. I just started school again after winter break and it's exhausting, what with exams and such and mum breathing down my neck to see if I'm keeping up with my studies...<strong>

**I went out to see show as of last night, and during the car ride a had a brilliant idea; I'd write a fanfiction about what the antics of River Phoenix, Wil Wheaton, Jerry O'Connell and Corey Feldman on set, who are the actors that played the sbm boys. I could write about River's death and all...it would be fantastic. I already wrote the beginning, but I have another fanfic already planned, and I must finish my fiction story that I'm posting on my fictionpress, so I guess I'll have to put this one off for a little bit. But it could happen! I got really excited, and on the way to the show, I was relaying the entire plot to my mum oh my, I probably made her think I was cracked or something because I was much too enthusiastic. **

**Well, this has been a too-long intro. Oh well. I particularly like this chapter, so I hope you guys like it too, despite the fact that it's quite short...**

**All the best, **

**-Tommy**

The girls were a few feet away now, and with one helpless glance at them, they put their heads down.

They could hear them giggling as they passed by. Their possessive, pulling, almost artificial stares pushed against the backs of the boys' bent, exposed necks.

Then the giggling stopped abruptly. A shiver ran across the group of four at the chilling silence. A light drizzling of whispering.

Chris looked up. It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, absolutely stupid. The boy's world seemed to be woven with a whole fucking lot of stupid, didn't it? And they were quite sick of it. So much stupid could begin to get to your head, making you think that _you _are stupid, which causes you just to do more stupid things, because you've given up to your born-with stupidity.

"It's him." One girl croaked. "It's…Christopher Chambers, isn't it?"

They just stared. Teddy's leg shot out, kicking Chris in the shin. This snapped him back into reality,

Chris stumbled up from his spot on the ground, standing awkwardly in front of the girls. With just as much awkward, the rest eased up from the pavement.

"Oh my gosh, it's them!" The blonde hissed to the brunette. Their eyes went wide.

"Chris…" Gordie hissed. "What do we do?"

"We run-"

"Arthur!" A familiar voice called. The boys spun around. There was Dana, her face slightly flushed, running up the street with two large plastic bags, sweat plastering lose whips of her neat hazelnut colored hair to her forehead. "Arthur, Jack, Phil, Bruno! I've been looking everywhere for you boys! Where have you been?"

"We…uh…"

"No time to answer. We have to get to the…the, uh, the theatre right now. The show is about to start." Dana gave them a look that told them to just go the fuck with it, goddamn it, putting her hands behind Chris and Gordie and leading the boys down the street in a rush. They could hear the girl's confused whispers from behind them.

"But I could have sworn…"

"It had to be them…"

"That was a fucking close one." Teddy hissed as they turned the corner.

"Just put these on." Dana told them, shoving the bags into their arms. They opened them, and inside were four different colored long sleeved shirts with hoods, one for each.

"No way, I'm not putting this on!" Vern protested. "It's too hot out!"

"Just put this on, unless you want to get caught." Dana said, shoving the bag into his chest.

The boys rolled their eyes. Reluctance in their movements, they pulled off their shirts (Unexpected for Dana, who turned her head away instantly at the show of their pubescent, bare chests) and pulled the shirts on.

"Damn, these are terrible." Gordie muttered, observing the white shirt that clung to his skin as a result of the summer-heat induced sweat.

"Is everyone descent?" Dana asked, still with her back to them. "Is it safe?"

"It's just a shirt, Dana." Chris said. "It's always going to be just fabric whether it's on or off."

"Well, I don't exactly want to be standing here while you boys are half naked, if you ask me." Dana replied, turning back around and continuing to walk down the street. It was more crowded on the pavement now, shops and apartments and a large street on which cars buzzed by. This was most noise that the boys had heard in their life; people talking, footsteps, cars honking, sirens from firetrucks blaring in the distance, more talking. This wasn't no Castle Rock, that was for sure.

"Ohh, it's only _skin._" Teddy said, shoving Dana. She glared at him, telling him to never try that again, that 'friendly' thing again or she'd slit his throat. "But it's skin that I don't want to see." She grumbled. "You might not be girls, but I'm not in the mood to see the bare chests of strangers."

"We aren't strangers!" Chris protested. Now they were _trying _to be annoying. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Exactly." Dana said. "_Friends. _And _friends _don't see _friends _shirtless."

"Oh yeah?" Chris smiled, then pulled up his shirt, exposing himself. Dana squeezed her eyelids shut, ducked around Chris and hiding behind Gordie for protection, shielding her eyes. They all laughed in this way that almost felt like tying the final tie around the five of them. _Friends. _

"Don't _ever_ do that again!" Dana commanded, even though she was slightly smiling.

"You _liked _it!" Chris insisted, leaning around Gordie to poke her in the shoulder.

"Jesus, no! What do you think I am?"

"What I think you are is a girl who promised to buy us a pack." Chris said slyly. "Now did you?"

"What? No way!" Dana protested. "I never promised that!"

"You so did!" Gordie said.

"Well, I take it back."

"You can't do that."

"I'm not going to be seen buying a pack of cancer sticks with a bunch of assholes like you guys." She said, turning away from them and folding her arms.

"Come on!"

"Fuck you, Dana!"

"Go to hell!"

"Not cool, man."

She stopped to face them.

"Well, I'm not!" She exclaimed. "It's my money, and I'll do with it what I want. Besides, I already spent most of it on those stupid shirts.

"Awe."

"You suck."

"Damn Jesus."

"Screw you."

The boys each took the burnt out butts from their lips and threw them at her feet.

"Fine!" She cried. "Alright, fine. I'll get you your stupid cigarettes tomorrow. Geez."

The boys calmed.

Scott's apartment was on the seventh floor of a musky, drafty brick apartment just off the main road. Dana let herself into the deserted, dirty front lobby with a single rusted key that had been tucked into the back pocket of her boy's jeans for what seemed like a while. She lead them up the seven flights of stairs and down a hall, their shoes plunking down on the slightly grimy marble floor and towards a green-painted door, upon which were the numbers _7D. _

Looking around the hall somewhat nervously, Dana rapped on the door with a shaky fist.

No answer came. Dana waited patiently for a few moments, then knocked again, to no avail.

"Scott?" Dana croaked in a strange little tone of voice. "Scotty?"

"Damn it, Dana, he's not home!" Teddy said. Dana let out a long trail of breath.

"Move." She said, pushing the boys a little.

"What?" Vern said.

"Move. Get off the matt." Dana said. The boys looked down at the little brown welcome matt under their feet, and shuffled off. Squatting down, Dana cautiously lifted the corner of the mat off the floor. Under it sat the round little outlines of a key just underneath it. Picking it up gingerly in her slender fingertips, as if it any sudden movements would cause it to shatter, she slid it into the keyhole and turned it easily. The little green door eased open, and she showed the boys inside, carefully placing the key in the exact same place as she had left it.

Inside, the apartment was a cozy little place. There was a small living room with two beat-up old couches facing into an even more beat-up TV sitting on top of an overturned metal garbage can. There was a small coffee table, nicks and scratches across the tabletop, and a very, very small kitchen, with just about six nearly empty cupboards and a small refrigerator. A door lead off to what was most likely the bedroom, little light floating into the main room from the lofty windows. A red plastic telephone hung on the wall.

"You guys get comfortable, I'm going to call Scott and tell him about everything." Dana said, comfortably padding across the stained carpet towards the phone like it was her own house. Awkwardly, the boys slumped down on the couches, realizing just how exhausted they were in this moment. Vern, Chris and Gordie shared one couch, Teddy sprawled out, his shoes still on, fully occupying the other. As Dana dialed, Chris draped his arm around the side of the couch, Vern lolling his head back, and Gordie putting his feet up after removing his shoes, sitting with his legs strangely folded, one foot resting on Chris's knee.

"Hello, may I speak to Scott Clark, please?" Dana said into the phone. There was a pause, an inaudible reply coming from the other line. "Oh, alright." Another pause. "Yeah, that's fine…no, that wouldn't be necessary, thank you…Alright….You too!" Dana smiled involuntarily, her voice sounding almost fakery cheery. "Bye." Right when the phone hit the receiver, her fake smile vanished.

"So?" Vern asked.

"He just left the office, so the secretary expects that he'll be back soon." She replied, walking over to the living room. Seeing that there was no more room on the first couch, she gave Teddy the death stare until he moved his dirty boots out of the way, then sat. "He'll have to catch a taxi or the bus or something to get over here, so it might be a little bit."

"You're sure it's cool if we stay?" Chris asked tentatively.

"He said I was always welcome." Dana shrugged. "Never said I couldn't just be Dana plus four."

The boys chuckled.

"So why _are _you guys here, anyways?" Dana asked. "I mean, you said that it had something to do with Ray Brower getting murdered or something…Is that true?"

"Welllll…"

The boys exchanged glances. Why not? The story was going to get out in a matter of days anyway...

"I…I suppose we should start from the beginning…" Gordie said. "So, it was a few weeks ago when Vern overheard his brother and a friend talking about how they had recently boosted a car and rode out to the Back Harlow road, only to find Brower there. They knew they couldn't tell the police, because they'd know they don't have no car, so they'd know that they'd boosted one. So we decided, hey, why not? If we go out and we find that body, we could be heros or famous or something. So we adventured out, followed the tracks to the place, found the kid…but then we had a run in with this gang, the Cobras. They'd also got the same idea when Billy and Charlie, the guys who'd found Brower, had told them about it. So we had this big showdown, eventually I pulled a gun, and we got to keep the kid. We turned him in with an anonymous phone call a few days afterwards. But, just a couple days a go, Chris here overheard his brother talking with his Cobra buddies about how we actually believed that Brower had been killed by the train. Apparently, they had killed him because he…saw too much of something. He knew something bad. So they killed him. When they found out we knew, they beat us up real bad-"

"That's why you guys look so fucked up?" Dana smirked.

"Exactly." Gordie continued. "They beat us up and after a bunch of tries to tell the police we decided to just leave and go to Harlow ourselves and tell the police there, and, well, you know the rest of the story…"

Dana sat in shock for a few moments.

"You mean to tell me," she began cautiously. "That that Brower kid was actually murdered…by your neighborhood bullies?"

"Well, actually, one of them is my brother, and another is Vern's." Chris said shyly.

"So you're still turning them in?" Dana asked in disbelief.

"Well, they killed him, didn't they?" Chris said.

"But he's still your brother!"

"But he's still dead!"

"Do you _want _him to go to jail?"

"It's not like I…oh Jesus, man." Chris ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know! I mean, they haven't exactly been the kindest of assholes towards us!"

"Yes, but he's family!"

"When 'family' is a murderer, I don't give a fuck what happens to him." Chris snarled. That voice; it was hard, cold, shockingly stern. It silenced the entire room. "He's dead to me, just like the kid he killed."

Dana stared at him for a few moments. Something had changed a little in her mind. The boys could tell.

But she didn't say a thing.


	12. Chapter 12

**OH WOW OKAY I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT BECAUSE I LOVE IT IT MAY BE MY FAVORITE CHAPTER SO FAR!**

**LOVE LOVE LOVE,**

**-THE-VERY-EXITED-AND-SLIGHTLY-NERVOUS-TO-SEE-THE-PUBLIC'S-OPINION TOMMY!**

* * *

><p>Day turned into evening, which turned into night. The sky was splattered with pink and violet and an off shade of dusty blue beyond the spectacular lights of the sparkling city. The air was cool, summer air touching your skin with a light sweep. It was the kind of slightly nostalgic summer that one always wants to remember. Sweet winds and pretty sunsets and warm wether. Perfection, like a cool glass of pink lemonade on a steaming day, or hot cocoa in the dead of a chilled winter.<p>

Gordie, Teddy and Vern were already asleep. Collapsed from exhaustion they were, sprawled out across each other. It was a kind of funny little scene, three boys using each other as pillows. They looked so peaceful, so young. None of these were true; they were no longer young, and no longer peaceful. The peace had been long since slapped out of them that summer, as well as their falsely gay, happy, ignorant youth. However, in their instant, they were the same as they were before Brower. Before Ace and Eyeball and before dirty adult magazines and cigarettes and sex ed in school and noticing girls. In their instant, they were injected with false innocence.

Chris, however, was awake. He was sitting up against the apartment door. His back was straight, his legs pulled up towards his chest, his hands lolling like useless pieces of fabric from his arms, which were draped across his knees.

And he thought. He thought for a long, long while. It wasn't too late. Maybe nine or ten-thirty or so, but the other boys were completely knocked out. He knew how they felt. A headache raged in his head, pulsing over his temples.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. _

He couldn't get it

_Stupid._

Out of his

_Stupid_

Mind

_Stupid stupid stupid. _

That word. It stuck in there, pushing at his brain. He couldn't get it out.

Chris heard a door creek open. He looked up, There was Dana, dressed in a large tee shirt that fell low over a pair of boy's boxer shorts, both of which were probably Scotts. Her hair was drenched and stringy, soaking the back of the shirt and brushing her face. Chris had never noticed how long it was, floating down almost to her hips when wet. He watched with interested eyes as her tall, slender body floated in a tired trance towards the kitchen. Using her arms, Dana lifted herself up onto the counter and picked up the cup of tea that she had made a bit ago before the boys had fallen asleep, and took a sip, cupping the mug snugly in both hands. Chris observed her still, her large eyes somewhat drooped downwards, watching the vapor curl off the surface of the brownish liquid, stirring the teabag idly around. She had not yet seen Chris, obviously thinking he was still asleep.

It was like observing an animal in the wild. She seemed so particularly calm, serenity, maybe it was.

_Something about her. _

She was in her raw. She wasn't trying to do anything. She had nothing to prove; nothing to prove to a ragtag group of immature runaway boys.

_Something about her. _

There was something about her. She wasn't like anything Chris had ever seen before. It was a strange feeling, almost something he had never, ever felt before.

_Something about her. _

She wasn't she kind of girl who would stare at you from across the room and giggle with her friends and wear a pretty little skirt.

_Something about her. _

No. She was the kind of girl who would be your friend. The kind of girl who would dress up like a boy and refuse to be left out because of who she was for anything.

_Something about her. _

The girls at Chris's school, none of them were like her.

_Something about her._

She was different. Something different.

_Something about her. _

She wasn't to be messed with.

_Something about her. _

She looked up. Her eyes were slightly wide at the edges, and something made Chris feel almost strangled. He was still staring at her.

"Oh, I thought you were asleep." She whispered.

"Me too." Chris whispered back. That didn't sound like he wanted it to sound, exactly, but hey, at least he'd said something.

Dana jumped up from the counter, her bare, slightly damp, feet padding across the carpet, her tea still in her hands. The window on the wall next to Chris and a few feet forwards was completely open, and Dana crawled out, letting herself onto the rusty red fire escape outside. She sat cross legged, her tea held softly in her hands, looking out at the city from the seventh floor that they were on at that moment.

_Something about her. _

The feeing grew. It began like a little bit of fuzz, which began to build up in the corner of the bottom of his stomach, then crawled and made it's way up his throat and into his mouth and his head and fluttered to his fingertips and gave his lips this uncontrollable feeling that he would never admit to anyone in his life.

_Something about her. _

It was almost the same feeling he got when he looked into the slightly lost eyes of Gordie Lachance. It was love. He had no other way to describe it. He only got this feeling, this specific feeling, this fuzzy feeling, with two people. There were so many people in the world that normal kids could pin the word _love _onto like a golden medal and have them strut around with it like some kind of title. Parents. Brothers. Sisters. That kind of binder, unconditional love that was almost forced because they're related to you. But Chris had none of that. None of those people got that fuzzy feeling around him.

_Something about her. _

So the two people in the entire world were very rare. He got it with Gordie, but in a different way. It was cooler, less embarrassing and flushed-red-cheeks-y. It wasn't cold, but it felt like the soft comfort of a thin silk blanket floating onto your body in the late summer or spring. It was comfortable.

_Something about her. _

But he didn't feel this cool sensation when he looked at Dana in that moment. It was hot and fuzzy, almost like little embers. Less natural, more of a sensation. Less of a soft feeling and more of a state of mind. She was more solid. And when the only second person in the world that Chris could say that he loved had only known him less than a day, Chris almost felt ridiculous, saying he loved her. It was stupid! He was a twelve year old, and here he was.

_Something about her. _

Chris watched her for a few more seconds, then lifted himself onto his feet and walked towards the fire escape. Ducking through the window, he let his feet swing onto the red, rusty metal bars. It was cooler outside, the wind nicer. The view was fantastic, stars and cars and lights and that one big moon hanging right above them. As a child, Chris remembered that he used to think that the moon was a big button, and when the sun went down, God draped the starry fabric over the world and buttoned it with that moon. He used to believe that the reason that the moon was so lit up at night was that the sun was still behind it, lighting it up from behind. And in the morning, God would unbutton the moon and let the fabric fall off the earth, letting the sun stop being such a background act.

It was strange, coming to sit cross-legged next to Dana in such a way. They were alone. That was weird. He hadn't really been seriously alone with a girl, but the strangest thing was that this felt just enough awkward to make it normal.

His mouth tasted bland, like cigarettes. He craved something to flush it out with; The taste of a cigarette only tasted good when there was one actually in his mouth.

"It's beautiful." Chris murmured. "I always wanted to go to the city."

"Now you're here." Dana breathed, not watching Chris as he lit a cigarette, not putting it to his lips just yet, but letting it burn out, which it did fast. He didn't know why he was doing this. This had been his very, very last cigarette, the last one of the pack that he had ripped up. But he was doing it anyway.

"I told you not to smoke around me." Dana said, sipping her tea.

"Sorry. Habit." Chris muttered, taking a quick drag before throwing it off the fire escape and down towards the passing people.

"You didn't have to do that." Dana told him.

"Yes I did." Chris answered, picking at the seams of his washed out blue jeans. "I never asked you." Dana said.

"It was implied." Chris countered.

"Those things cost money, don't they?" She said. He didn't answer.

_Something about her. _

There it was again. That feeling, God fucking damn it! It was almost like an impulse. He wanted to touch her hair. What?

_Something about her. _

"It really is beautiful." Chris said. "I love the stars. In Castle Rock, you can see them perfectly. I guess that the stars here are the lit-up apartment building windows, huh?"

She didn't answer.

"The lights here." He whispered. "They stain the sky. Kind of like bleach. It's sad, really, how the people her don't get to wish upon stars."

"Hmm." Dana said in reply.

"You know what I wish?" Chris said.

"No." She said, not seeming the most interested.

"I wish that I could be home again. Then, when I'm there, I could lay down in my back yard. It would be dark, and it would be quite. It's never quiet there. There's always shouting and arguing and…and hitting."

Dana tensed.

"Well, I'd go there. And then I'd look up at the sky, and you know what I'd see?" "Stars?"

"Exactly." Chris whispered. "I'd actually be able to see them. Then, I'd find a star. And I'd make a wish. I'm not really sure what I'd wish for, actually. But I'd pick a star. Any star, really. I don't exactly believe that the brightest star can make the strongest wish. That's a load of bullshit to me. I mean, I'm not the brightest star in the sky, but I think I can do a pretty good job of making wishes come true, don't you think?"

Dana looked over at him for the first time.

"Did you just come up with that?" Dana asked, disbelieving.

"Well, yeah." Chris shrugged.

"Are you trying to be deep or something?" She laughed. "I don't believe you came up with that."

"Why not?" Chris asked. "I just said it, didn't I?"

"You just don't…seem like the kind of boy to say something like that." Dana looked away.

"I don't seem like the kind of boy to be doing any of the things I'm doing, really." Chris muttered. "You seem like the kind of boy who would be adventuring out with his friends." Dana replied. "And that's what you're doing, aren't you?"

"Well, yes…and no." Chris said. "I meant more at home. I'm not the kind of guy to be doing the stuff I'm doing at home. No Chambers kid would ever do the stuff I'm doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my family kind of has a bad rep in Castle Rock." Chris explained in short. "But I'm taking some collage courses at school. Trying to get my ass out of the house before I get hided for it."

Dana was silent.

"Your dad beats you?" She croaked. Her voice came out feeble, crushed.

Chris swallowed something. He didn't know what it was, but it felt like a big lump in his throat that ether meant crying or anger. He wasn't sure which.

"Yes." He whimpered.

"Oh." Dana said. "I'm sorry."

Chris said nothing.

"My dad's a drunk." Dana said. "I don't see him a lot, so he doesn't really have a chance go hide me, but whenever he's around he's wasted."

Chris bit his lip.

"Sorry." He whispered.

They listened to the cars go by.

_Something about her._

Maybe it was that stupid coming back to him. Maybe it was that idiot trickling into him like a leak in his dam that told him never to let that guy out again. Maybe it was the pulsing, crazy, stupid hormonal feeling that was pushing his lips closer and closer to her's, but the next thing he knew he had one hand on her shoulder and the other gripping the bars of the fire escape until he thought the rust would dig into his flesh and make him bleed…And his mouth, well, it had a mind of it's own. What was it doing, interlocked onto Dana's like two fishing hooks? What was he doing there, twelve years old, in a foreign city, with some girl's hand wrenching itself through his blonde hair? What was he thinking, kissing a stranger? Was she a stranger? She wasn't a stranger. There she was, her fingers lightly tracing the outlines of his neck where the round cut of his tee shirt met his skin. And there was that feeling again, raging through his body. There was the moon, and the stars, and the city. There were the sounds and the lights and the light soundtrack of her smile breaking across her face. He could hear it, and could feel it, but his eyes were closed as the fuzzy feeling engulfed him, over and over and over again. His head swam. What had just happened? How did he end up there? How did it happen that he was leaning in just a little too close, his chest almost touching her's, their noses brushing up against each other like two ships passing in the water. Her eyelashes fluttered closed, pressing up against the bottom of his eyebrows, and she let her lips fall upon him. What was he doing here? Who was he? Who was _she_? Chris wondered if this was what it was like to be drunk and completely oblivious with the world spinning and only one anchor keeping him down on this earth that was her lips locked solidly into place, which was fitted right into his.

He didn't know if it was a good kiss or a bad kiss, as he didn't have any to compare this one to. It sure as hell _felt _like a good kiss, if a good kiss would make you _so _fuzzy that you could almost be sick right there on the fire escape, but almost in a good way. Not because of the touch of her lips, fresh with the taste of her peppermint toothpaste. No, that part was fantastic. _So _fantastic, in fact, that it made him dizzy, which, in the end, made him feel like he'd just spun around on a tire swing for too long. Which was why he would throw up. It wasn't her. It was the sensation. It was, essentially, him.

"Not the type of boy to do that, huh?" Chris asked in a whisper. He opened his eyes. Her's were open as well, their deep, deep brown pouring into his blue.

"No, not really, Chambers." She replied. "Not at all."

Chris smiled.

"Did I make a wish come true, then?" Chris pressed. "Not the brightest star in the sky, but still making wishes come true?"

She didn't answer, just smiled.

"I told you to stop smoking." Dana said after a pause.

"What?"

"You taste like cigarettes."

Chris chuckled.

"Then I guess every time you take a smoke, you'll think of me."

"I don't smoke." Dana insisted.

"Not yet." Chris murmured. "But one day you'll get bored of missing me and want to remember my cigarette ash."

Dana bit the inside of her cheek with he canine tooth.

"I'd have to be really bored or really lonely to want to taste you again." She smiled. "You're not really thirteen, are you?"

Chris paused for a moment.

"How did you know?" Chris asked.

"It's obvious." She said. "But I don't mind. It's only one year."

Fuzzy feeling, fuzzy feeling, fuzzy feeling….

"Guess we're not friends anymore, then." Chris said. "I think I just ruined the casualness between us."

"It's only one kiss." Dana replied. "Trust me, you probably wouldn't do it again by the time this fiasco is over."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I guess I'll have to prove you wrong, then."

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><p><strong>YES YES I UNDERSTAND YES I AM SO EXCITED TOO NOW YOU SEE WHY I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SO MUCHHHH<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**So sorry I haven't posted in a while! I have no excuse. Sigh. **

**Well, in an attempt to make this little intro more interesting, I can tell you guys that I was forever alone in science class because I have these two main mates that I always work with, but one was sick and the other was visiting the US for the weekend, so I had to do an egg-in-vinigar lab all by myself! Yayyyy...**

**Alright, that's enough about my sorry little life. At least I have monday off!  
>Cheers!<br>-Tommy**

* * *

><p>"WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU!? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT!?"<p>

Gordie sat bolt upright, looking wildly around. He had been resting his head on Teddy's chest, which he found odd, only until he realized that they were sleeping all bunched up on the couch in Dana's 'family friend's' house. It was dark, and the air was hot. He was sweating, his shirt removed as a result of the summer heat.

"Woah man." That was Chris. Following the voice as he scrambled up from the couch, clutching the shirt to his bare chest, Gordie saw the scene in front of him. Chris was standing with his back to them, facing a young man in the doorway. A light was flipped on.

"What the fuck!?" The man screamed. The man was of slightly floppy mousy brown hair that fell over his eyes, strung with sweat, a round face, the dotting of faint stubble (the envy of the teenage boys) across his cheek and upper lip and light grey eyes that were far from humorous. They were dark and demanding and fear-stricken. His mouth was open in a raging yell. This, Gordie quickly deduced, was Scott. "Why the hell are you!?"

"Listen, we can explain-"

"No!" Scott yelled, advancing on Chris as he stumbled back. "Get out of my house! Now!"

Chris took a few more steps back before turning and running across the living room, motioning for the others to follow him. Being that they had nothing else to do, they followed. They sprinted towards the door to the bedroom, just as Dana burst through.

"Parker!?" Scott exclaimed. "What the hell is this!?"

"Look, Scott, just calm down-"

"No, Dana, why the hell are you here!"

"I-"

Chris pushed past her, and the boys followed him into the small bedroom. Inside was a full sized bed, the covers unmade, where Dana had most likely been sleeping, and a large window with the curtains drawn. Chris slammed the door shut, but there was no lock.

"Shit." He muttered as footsteps approached. "Shit shit shit."

"The bathroom!" Vern called. The door to the small washroom stood ajar on the other side of the room. They ran towards it, piling into the cramped room. They barely fit, what with Gordie on the sink and Teddy in the shower. Chris locked the door.

Breathing hard, they waited with bated breath, leaning in to the door to better their eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Open up!" Scott banged on the door. "Open up and get out of my house!"

"Scott!" Dana exclaimed. "Scott, it's alright."

"No, it's not!" Scott yelled. "I always told you you were welcome here if you needed to escape but I never said that this bunch assholes were allowed as well!"

"They're not…Look, Scotty, they're in major trouble and they needed my help, alright? I met them on the train here."

"Why are _you _here?"

There was a pause.

"I…" Dana struggled with her words. "I just…You know how dad is…I couldn't…"

Scott didn't respond.

"They're in trouble, Scott." Dana muttered. "_I'm _in trouble."

"Look, Dana, I can't get myself wrapped up in a bunch of runaways." Scott breathed finally. "They're those kids from Castle Rock, aren't they?"

"Yes." Dana replied. "I couldn't just leave them. They got on the express train by mistake and I…I told them that they could come with me. They're here so they can tell the the police about a murder."

"A murder!?" Scott exclaimed. "Oh Jesus Christ, Parker, I can't have these kids here! Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if they find them?"

The boys exchanged looks. Were they going to be ratted out?

"It's just for the night." Dana said. "Please?"

Silence for a few moments.

"Fine." Scott said finally. "But if…but…you know what I'm going to do, alright?"

"Okay."

Had they really thought that they were going to get away without being noticed? By God, they were wrong. They had the cops out for them, and their parents, but they never thought they'd have the Cobras going for them as well.

About a few hours prior to the boy's arrival in the city, Ace had noticed the absence of the boys on that fine Saturday morning. He searched the town all morning, going to all the places that he would never be caught dead at, like their treehouse or any of the other lame-ass places the little homos hung out around. Nothing. Eventually, he visited the Chambers' house to look for Eyeball, but all he found was chaos. Apparently, the little bastard had left a note on the dining room table the night before, telling about how they fled the town, and they would be back soon.

Ace knew exactly what that meant. And before you could say 'cherry flavored Pez', he had gathered all of the Cobras and piled them into Ace's black '56 Ford and were on the road. They already knew that the boys had bought a ticket to the next stop on the express train, which went directly to the city; Everyone had already deduced that by now. But what they hadn't already deduced was that if nobody shut them up real quick, the Cobras would be in jail before they knew it.

"Fucking can't believe this shit." Ace muttered, half to himself. Eyeball looked over at him, then back at the road through the open car window, and back again at Ace. "Why didn't we just kill them when we had the chance!?"

"He's my brother, Ace!" Eyeball blurted. "We can't just kill my brother."

Ace was silent for a few moments.

"Well, it's ether your brother's life or your ass in jail." Ace snapped, shifting the toothpick he had clamped between his teeth from one side of his mouth to the other. Eyeball peered over to look at speedometer of the car. Ace was speeding by almost thirty MPH. His foot had barely lifted itself off the gas since they got in the automobile. Both of Ace's pale hands were gripping firm on the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles went white and his fingertips lost the pinky tint of blood.

"Fucking _shit!_" Ace yelled suddenly, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. The Cobras jumped. "We're going to go to _jail _because of your kid brother goddamn it Eyeball why don't I just kill all the Chambers in this fucking town!?" Ace took a shaking, ragged, deep breath, his face pulsing red. "_Why _did we even _talk _about the stupid _dope dealing_? I knew it! Why can't everyone just mind their own fucking _business!?_"

It had been only a few weeks ago when the Cobras had boosted that car and rode out to the Back Harlow road. In conflict to what Vern had understood he had heard when he first found out, they hadn't simply gone out in a boosted car and stumbled upon the body of young Ray Brower. In actuality, Ray had found _them. _

The Cobras, _not _just Billy and Charlie Hogan, had gone out that day in a boosted car to sell some dope to a customer of theirs when the missing Ray Brower waltzed right down the train tracks and seen them sitting just below the embankment. At first, he was shocked, but being that he was nearly thirteen years old, he knew exactly what they were doing, and threatened to run and tell the police back at home. Being that the Cobras were high and half-wasted, it took their muddled-up minds only a few minutes to figure the best way to shut him up would be to run him over with their car. So that was what they did. In the moment, it seemed like great fun to chase the lost kid down the train tracks in their Ford until you could feel his bones crushing under the rubber tires.

Being under the influence of drugs and a little bit of alcohol would do nothing to make the judge pity them in court. The Cobras knew that. And after they had passed out by Ray's dead body and sobered up a bit, they realized what they had done. It was like a blow to the gut.

You don't really remember much when you wake up after being high, as far as I know, but you'll remember quite a bit if you wake up next to the dead body of a kid you just killed.


	14. Chapter 14

**So sorry I'm posting this so late at night...I have got to stop posting at such strange times. **

**We're nearing the end of the story, whaaaaaaaaaaaattttt? I already have the epilogue written and I have to say I read it to my mum and, uhh, she cried, soooo... **

**I listened to****_ Requiem for Blue Jeans_**** by Bastille while writing this, and I swear, it might be my favourite song ever. So go listen to it. While you read. Yeah. **

**Cheers!  
>-Tommy<strong>

When Gordie awoke, he had no idea where he was. Literally. No fucking clue. It was cool, and pitch black, wherever he was, cold concrete floor underneath him. He sat up.

"Listen here, Lachance." A voice pushed into Gordie's ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He could feel hot breath on his bare neck, where the sweat was beginning to trickle across his skin. His heart rate pumped ten times faster. He could feel something cold up against the side of his head. "I would have done this the easy way, but that wouldn't have been just as fun as this is going to be."

Gordie knew that voice. That was Ace's voice!

Memories began to taper back into his mind. They had left the apartment early that morning, and were heading for the police station, and then…and then…

He could only remember struggle and hands and some shrieking and black.

"Get away from me!" Gordie screamed suddenly, attempting to leap to his feet only to find that they were bound, as well as his hands. He tried to thrash out and push Ace away, who appeared to be kneeling next to him, but something stopped him. A click. The click of a gun being loaded. It was a dark, damp, hard click through the fake silence that made Gordie's skin crawl and goosebumps pinch across his arms and legs. The barrel of said gun pushed further into his head.

"Settle down, Lachance. This is going to be a lot easier if you just relax." Gordie obliged, even though he was screaming bloody murder in his mind…which wouldn't have been so far from what actually happened. "Alright. Good. Now you're just going to sit here, kid, and you're going to listen…And you're going to watch."

A light flickered on. Gordie squinted, attempting to shield his eyes with his shoulder, since his hands were bound.

In front of him was a scene enough to make his mind race and his pulse pump double time. There they were, his friends. Dana, Chris, Vern, Teddy. Each tied up to their own chair, their hands bound behind them and their feet tied together. The space they were in was small, almost claustrophobic, concrete ceiling, walls and floor, and a lone, naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. A small, beat up projector sat in the corner on a metal stool. Around the space were the Cobras, each strategically placed along the wall, each armed with a pistol. The one and only Ace was squatting next to him, dangerously close. The gun was still pressed to Gordie's hair.

"You've been a naughty boy, Lachance." Ace sneered into Gordie's ear. He cringed, leaning as far away as he could. His eyes scanned those of his friends. Each of their pupils portrait the same thing-Fear. Full out fear. Terror. "You're not as good a kid as your parents think you are…Even if they don't love you." Ace sighed theatrically. "And since you were the one who didn't put down the gun when we wanted to take the kid, we're pinning all this on you, mister Goody Two-Shoes."

"Pin what on me?" Gordie croaked feebly. He looked at Chris, who just shook his head sadly, not knowing a thing either.

"As you already know, the Cobras and I…were the case of that Brower kid's death." Ace continued, ignoring Gordie's question.

"So you admit it?" Gordie asked.

"There's no point in pleading guilty-all odds are against us anyway." Ace brushed him off. "Besides, who are you going to tell? You'll be dead in a matter of minutes."

Gordie shivered. _Shittttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!_

"Well, that day that you boys found us after your adventure looking for his body, we were just scared you were going to put all the pieces together and find out it was us. Besides, who is going to think that the guys who turned Brower in were his killers? So we wanted him for ourselves." Ace began to pace back and forth in front of Gordie. "But _you, _my friend," he pointed an accusing finger at Gordie. "pulled a gun. So we're going to make the remainder of your life absolutely miserable."

Gordie's feet went cold. He felt all forms of fear that he possibly could. More fear than ever before.

"So since we are going to have to kill you anyway, we're going to make this just a little more entertaining." A sly smile crept across Ace's face. Gordie cringed. "So we'll make you chose."

"Chose?" Gordie stammered. "Chose what?"

"Chose who to kill first." Ace explained, that smile never leaving his face. "You get to chose the order in which your friends _die_."

"What the fuck!?" Gordie exclaimed. "What the hell happened to you, man, this is crazy! I can't do that!"

"Oh, but you will." Ace commanded. "It's like I said before; You're all going to die anyway. Why not make this fun?"

"This is insane!" Gordie yelled. "_You're _insane!"

"Fucking do it, Lachance!" Ace snarled.

"I…" Gordie looked across the faces of his friends. The gun was pressed to his head again. He couldn't. He just _couldn't. _How could he ever chose between them? How could he ever do that to them? No, it wasn't possible. It wasn't within his ability.

"You've made up your mind yet?" Ace pressed. His breath was on his skin again. "Or do you need some encouragement?"

"You're sick." Gordie spat. "You're sick and completely insane. What the hell happened to you?"

"I need to do what I need to do, Gordon." Ace said quietly. "Now chose, goddamn it!"

"Please don't make me do this, Ace." Gordie pleaded. "Please, you know I can't-"

"Put in the video!" Ace yelled, spinning around to look at each and every Cobra.

"But Ace-" Eyeball began.

"Just do it!" Ace snarled. Taken aback, Eyeball scurried across the room towards the projector, producing a film roll from inside his jacket, and inserting it into the projector. The projector came to life, and an image began to play across the wall next to Gordie. He turned to look.

At first, the image was white. Just light. But as the video began to play, Gordie's heart sunk lower and lower.

The quality was crappy, and obviously homemade. Depicted, even though it was very hard to make out, was the smiling face of Denny Lachance.

"No." Gordie whispered horsely. "No, no, no."

And there he was. Gordie couldn't breathe. All he could see was Denny, holding some kind of illegal drug between his fingers like a cigarette, a beer bottle in the other.

This wasn't Denny.

Oh, but it was. The handsome, dark haired boy was sitting right there, right upon the screen, smoking that something and drinking that alcohol and making a fool of himself, sitting next to Ace like they were best buds.

_This wasn't Denny. _

This _couldn't _be Denny.

"Turn it off." Gordie breathed. The scene changed, a video of Denny standing in a store in the dead of night somewhere, probably a gas station of some sort. With sneaky fingers, he picked up two bottles of wine and stuffed them inside his jacket.

_Denny didn't steal. Denny didn't do drugs. Denny didn't drink. _

"Turn it off!" Gordie said again, louder this time.

"Make up your mind, Lachance!" Ace's voice rang out.

Denny was running across the parking lot with the rest of the Cobras.

_Denny didn't hang out with the Cobras. _

They piled into the car, Denny driving. In Denny's car. He wasn't drunk. Gordie could tell. He was just being stupid.

"Turn it off!"

"Make up your mind!"

_Denny didn't do stuff like this. _

They were driving down the highway at an alarming rate. Speeding.

_Denny didn't speed. _

"You want it off you have to tell us who goes first!"

_"Denny, slow down, man!" _

That was Charlie Hogan's voice in the video.

_"Nah, s'all cool. I got this_."

_No. No, Denny would never do this. This wasn't Denny. Denny didn't-_

The car. It rammed off the highway. The video shook, and everything was blurry, spinning upside-down and right again. There was yelling, but none of them were from Denny's voice.

_"Come on, lets get out of here!" _

The person manning the camera jumped out of the car, and so did the rest.

_"What about Denny?" _

_"Leave him!" _

_"But-" _

_"It's about to blow!"_

_"Shit!" _

The cameraman ran helter-skelter away from the car.

_Denny wasn't with them. _

_"Holy fuck!_"

The car. It had exploded into flames.

Denny was still inside.

"Turn it off!" Gordie yelled. "I said turn it off!"

"Who do you want, then?"

Gordie's mind raced. The car spluttered and groaned as the flames licked across it's surface. Denny was still in there. Denny was unconscious. He had always know that. He had always know that Denny had been burned in the car like that. Unconscious. He had never thought that it had been…It couldn't have…This wasn't possible…

_"Chris!_" Gordie blurted, louder than he thought. "Just-Chris, goddamn it!"

The look on Chris's face was first shocked, a shock so pale and hard and dead. Gordie's face went even more so. What had he just done?

Then there was madness. Cold, hard rage. A look that could kill, and Gordie was sure it would. If Chris had his hands on a gun at that moment, Gordie would bleeding on the ground.

"Gordie-" Chris stammered, his face dark red and blazing. Blazing like Denny's overturned Ford while he was stuck inside. "Gordie…what?"

"Chris, you're my best friend." Gordie managed. "I just need to get this over with."

"You…You bastard!" Chris shouted as Charlie Hogan and Billy untied him. Billy. He looked on the verge of tears. Thrashing, they lead Chris out of his seat and into the middle of the room. "You want to kill me first! What the hell, Gordie!? What the _hell, _man!? I thought-You were-you _are-_my best friend!"

"I'm _sorry!_" Gordie yelled without even thinking. The tears were coming now. He could feel them streaming down his face, and see, through misty eyes, that he was crying as well. "I didn't know what I was saying! I just watched my brother die onscreen, man, I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was doing."

"Ace, don't do this!" Chris cried as Charlie forced him to kneel and Ace held the gun to his head. "_Eyeball! _I'm you fucking brother!"

"I don't want to do this, Chris." Eyeball whispered. "But I have…" He choked back something, whatever it was. "I have to."

"Please, don't do this!" Chris yelled. "Help! Fucking help someone!" He looked wildly around the basement. "_Please!_"

"Chris-"

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

There were three bullets shot at that moment. Three bullets, one girl holding Chris's .45 high in the air, one boy named Teddy with a pocket knife between his teeth. Three bullets. Two shots from Chris's gun that fumbled in Dana's hands, one into the floor. Still two more bullets. Two people dropped to the ground. Ten or thirteen people burst through the door to the basement, one being Scott, the others being armed police officers.

Two people dropped.

One was Ace, with Dana's bullet wedged into his back. The other was Chris, the bullet from Ace's gun.


	15. Chapter 15

**Nooo way, this is the final chapter mates! I can't believe it what!? Hope you enjoy, and I think this is some sort of an epilogue. Thank you for all of your support, active reading, sweet comments and brilliant advice/critiquing! Hope to be seeing you all soon, because I should be starting a new fanfiction in a matter of weeks. Comment what you think I should fanfiction about next, because I'm not sure if I should write one for Stand By Me or the Goonies or Simon Birch. **

**Absolute love, **

**~Tommy~**

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><p>Bright light and the warm smell of rubbing alcohol. Chris's senses were turned all the way up, every light heightened and ten times brighter to his light blue eyes.<p>

His world began to filter back through the white brightness. A plain, cream-colored ceiling was the first thing he saw.

Next came the feelings. His whole midsection felt numb, with an aching sort of pain that felt very similar to that of growing pains. And the hunger. His stomach felt completely empty, hollow and deflated. It might as well have been the worst kind of docile hunger that he had ever felt in his life; and that was saying something. Being a Chambers sometimes meant that you had to go for days on end without a proper meal.

Chris's hand shot down to his stomach, only to pull it back abruptly as pain prickled across his skin.

"Uuuuuuurghhhh…" He let out a sorry groan as his head began to throb. Where was he? The bed he sat in was warm and comfortable, neat covers pulled over him.

"Chris!" A voice called. It sounded distant, but Chris could immediately recognize it as Gordie voice. Slowly, Chris sat up, looking around. Around him was a small, completely white and very sterile room, laminate floors and perfectly painted walls, and a large window to Chris's left. He was lying in a hospital bed, the white blankets laid neatly around him. An IV was stuck into Chris's left arm, and his stomach was bandaged over with stained gauze. The room was cool and sunny, a false quiet playing across the soundwaves. Sitting on a chair by the window, his nose in a comic book, was Gordie.

Gordie eyes lit up at the sight of Chris. He had changed clothing, and was now wearing a fresh pair of pants and a striped red and white tee shirt, his hair neatly parted but slightly messy, in a way that his mousy brown bangs hung across his forehead. Illuminated by the soft, golden summer light filtering in through the open window, Gordie seemed to almost glow, his face lit up by that smile that played across his lips and white teeth.

Chris smiled. Everything was alright.

Ace died in the hospital three days subsequent to him getting shot in the back by Dana's gun. The bullet had hit him straight through the spine, breaking the bone and scraping his lungs. They were unable to save him.

As for the rest of the Cobras, it took the police a while to gather up the evidence to prove that they were guilty of the crime, but about three trials and two appeals later, they landed themselves a life sentence in jail. Teddy and Gordie never visited the Cobras there, nor did they ever feel the need to, although from time to time they wondered about their wellbeing. Chris and Vern, however, took a day or two out of their lives to go visit their brothers on their own time, but the conversations that took place never got much past "How's mom doing?"

And Dana. After being sent back home when the police arrived in the basement, she tried and failed about three times to secretly run away and live with Scott in the city. After that, she gave up almost entirely until she reached the age of seventeen, when she received a letter from Scott, who was nearing his twenty-second year and had a job as a journalist for a local newspaper, telling her he was going abroad to live in London for a year and wanted to know if she would like to come with him. After much conviction and argument with her parents, she left her little town and accompanied Scott to London. Within the time before London, in all honesty, Dana didn't really keep in contact with the boys much; they established a few days a year to hang out, and she would sometimes run into them at parties and whatnot, but I am sorry to say that they never really were as close as they were when they were twelve and thirteen. The fact that the four boys grew further and further apart as the years went by didn't do much for their friendship with Dana ether, and as they talked less and less, they kind of just forgot about that girl who's friendship with them relied on their friendship together.

Dana had only smoked three times in her entire lifetime, and each time, she had been sure to never make it a habit.

The first time had been one day in her third year of junior high when her friend offered her one. At the moment Dana put it to her lips, she wrenched it away, coughing and gagging because the memory was all too vivid. The memory of that boy who had kissed her that summer. The taste of the little thing was so clear, a little dot of light raging through her dark mind. It was warm and smoky and slightly bitter, just like he had been. The cigarette wasn't just as sweet, not as soft as his pink lips had been when they pressed up onto her's, but it was such a taste that made Dana scared out of her mind.

The second time was in high school. It had been the middle of the night, and when Dana awoke thrashing and shaking and sweaty and hot after a dream about that same boy, she craved the taste. Chris had been right; one day, when she got just too lonely and missed him too much, she would cave in. She did. In the dead of night, Dana left the house and walked an entire five blocks to the nearest 24/7 gas station where she purchased the cheapest pack and smoked two of them right outside, her knees to her chest, hacking and coughing and tears in her eyes. She promised herself she would never do this. She promised herself that she would never miss him like this. She had been only thirteen when she kissed him, but no other kiss, no other boy, had ever felt the same. Nobody ever talked to her the way that he did. No one ever looked into her eyes like he had when he was so, so young. Too young. Too innocent to be scarred like he had been that summer.

And the third time, oh the third time. She had been thirty-seven years old, and married with a boy that looked too much like Chris and too close to his age. It was summer, the same kind of summer that it had been that night. Soft and cool and warm and smelling like the little blue flowers that grew in those open fields. It was morning, the earliest of mornings, on a Monday. Dana was about to leave for work when she picked up the discarded newspaper that he husband had left on the table after breakfast and coffee. Dana rarely looked at the headlines, but this one pulled her in, and in her shaking hands the paper was held until she dropped it on the floor and stumbled onto the front porch. There she sat, the cigarette taste pulsing in her lips. Her head throbbed as she watched the front yard and the birds fly by and the cars drive along, the whole world passing by as she sat in shock. The sun was in the sky, but she wanted to see the stars. She wanted to watch them and cry and wish upon one of them, any one of them, not just the brightest one out there because that's bullshit, he had said. He had said that. His words rang in her ears. The not-so-bright star had been her wish, but her wish had burnt out.

_Attorney Christopher Chambers Fatally Stabbed in Restaurant. _

What? What had happened?

That day, she didn't go to work. For over three hour she sat in her trance on the front steps until she got up and walked along the highway until she made it to a gas station that was open. There she purchased a pack and walked home. When she got there, she took the cigarette that she had lit and put it to the newspaper, watching it burn and then smolder and then go out, slowly, slowly, slowly, the yellow flames flickering and licking over the words that played in black across the page.

_Attorney Christopher Chambers Fatally Stabbed in Restaurant._

She smoked until the sun hung lower in the sky and her husband came home and so did her son, but they would never knew anything. They would never understand.

Dana didn't cry for Christopher Chambers. She never thought she would until years later, when she finally did. But the day he died, she didn't cry. Chris's cigarettes and Chris taste were Dana Parker's tears.

It's funny, almost, how friends come and go. They can sometimes just leave without a sound, and you only ever realize they're gone until you need to turn around and collapse into their arms and find only open air. That was almost how it was with Chris; Dana almost never thought of him until she was at her breaking point, when she knew that he was the only person who would ever really _get _her, because Christopher Chambers got everybody, or at least made them feel like he did. All those fake friends that would gladly stab her in the back if it benefited them, they were no Chris, that was for sure. And although she had only known him for such a short period of time, well, Chris just had a way of getting into your head. He had a way of making you feel as if you had known him…forever.

Gosh, he still makes people feel like that, even after he was gone. He had such an enormous presence on this earth; Even after he was gone, he left such a gigantic, gaping hole in his wake that it almost felt like he was still there.

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><p><strong>BEST OF LUCK TO YOU ALL, AND PLEASE STAY TUNED FOR AN AUTHOR'S NOTE COMING LATER THIS WEEK! THANK YOU AGAIN FOR ALL YOUR KINDNESS AND SUPPORT!<br>ALL THE BEST AND LOVE AND THANKS AND YOURE AMAZING AND KEEP IT UP AND MILLIONS OF HUGS AND KISSES AND I LOVE YOU!  
>LOVE, <strong>

**-TTTOOOOOMMMMMYYYY**


	16. Author's Note

Oh gosh, Stand By Me A Little Longer has been basically my life for the past month. I don't know exactly where to start!

It feels like years since I first saw the movie Stand By Me. I happened upon it by accident, whilst browsing Netflix with a mate of mine, and we decided to watch it, since it looked quite interesting and it was about a group of boys our age. After finishing the movie, I found out that it was River Phoenix who played Christopher Chambers, and immediately became interested. My interest expanded when I saw that the pictures of him online were only those from nearly the 90s or later. This got me intrigued, and after much research I found that he had died on Halloween of 1993.

After obsessing over Stand By Me and River for weeks on end, I began to think about doing something more with my fanboying. I had been publishing my current story on Fictionpress for a while now, but had recently finished it. This brought me to thinking about FanFiction, because I had heard about it and how it was linked to Fictionpress. I decided, what the hell, go for it! It took me a while to come up with the plot, though, and eventually I let go of the idea several times, until an internet writer friend of mine from Fictionpress, Jake Castaway-a brilliant writer, may I add-asked me if I was on FanFiction. I told him no, but that I probably should be, and he agreed. That was when I decided to sit down and come up with a plot, which worked almost flawlessly. And I began Stand By Me A Little Longer.

It is really a wonderful thing, being on . The people here, they understand the uncontrollable obsession-induced rage pumping through your bloodstream and the need to do something-anything!-to quell that rage. I must admit, I always thought I was getting a lot of reviews and views and stuff like that on my Fictionpress, but I found that you get even more from people who understand you and want so badly to read about the made-up adventures misadventures of their favorite characters.

You don't normally find fanboys in this world, let alone those who would write fanficiton, and I would never have the guts to read any of my writing out loud to anyone. That's why it is so important to me that I get people to read it that I don't even know; they can't judge me or tease me or anything, they just read it for what it is. That being said, most people in the UK don't even know about Stand By Me at all, so even if I were to read it, most people wouldn't understand. Everyone on here is so, so kind, so sweet and so brilliant. With that, I would like to thank Scripter21, Izout, .kid, edmundblack, and that mystery guest reviewer for being so great and reviewing my story, as well as the other people who have viewed and read it! I love you all and I am so grateful to have people reading my story! You all are so brilliant and amazing and thank you so much for sticking with me throughout my fanboyish adventure!

See you soon!

(Not if I see you first)

-TOMMYYY


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